


More Than Yesterday, Less Than Tomorrow

by TricorderReadings



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-27 00:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30114603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TricorderReadings/pseuds/TricorderReadings
Summary: Corin wakes in an unfamiliar place and has to face the consequences of choices he doesn't remember making. He's sure that Din's support is going to run its course eventually. Din just wants the man he loves back.But even in this new reality Gideon wants the child.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/Din Djarin
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	1. Now-Corin Wakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyIrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIrina/gifts).



> This story uses OC characters from Lady Irina's wonderful series The Mandalorian, his son and the Storm Trooper which everyone should read if they haven't already. It is a lovely series with a beautiful relationship and amazing OC characters. There are some references to that series in this story. This was started before season 2 aired and therefore I named the child Matias since we didn't yet know Grogu's name. There is some Spanish and some Mando'a for which I've provided inline translations however I'm not fluent in either language so please let me know if I've made some mistakes. I used to be prolific in fanfic but this is the first one I've done in 20 years. The POV switches between Corin and Din and the timeline also switches between Now and Before.

Consciousness, when it came, moved slowly from a deep, thick darkness up to a lighter sense of awareness. Corin opened his eyes. He squinted and blinked a couple of times with the light and stared up at the ceiling. He could not remember where he was or what had happened. When he tried to conjure up the last known thought, his mind was a whirling mix of memories old and new. His head was pounding.

Feeling stiff and confused, he chose not to move but rather try to take in his surroundings in hopes of figuring out what was going on. He was on a bed, inclined slightly, and there were things attached to his body. One tube poked into his nostrils, blowing air. Another went from a needle in his hand up to a bag of fluid suspended on a pole. His eyes tracked the tube up and down. Something was clipped to a finger on the same hand and it had a wire that also reached up. Corin brought his blurry gaze into focus between the ceiling and some kind of screen. There were other wires coming from the screen leading down to his body.

On his right side, further from the pole and screen was a window that looked out onto a corridor. Corin could see other people passing by and slid his eyes along to find a closed door, which explained why it was so quiet even with so many people.

Some kind of med center maybe? Had he been hurt beyond the kid’s ability to help? Corin felt a stab of anxiety. Where was the kid? Where was Din? What had happened to him?

Shifting his gaze to his left he saw another window, this one looking to the outside. An overcast, rainy day judging by the grey light that made his eyes water. He blinked a few more times and then was startled to see he wasn’t alone in the room.

Sitting between his bed and the window was a man he didn’t recognize. The man was slumped over to one side, resting his head against a hand that covered his eyes. His dark brown hair was disheveled, in fact his whole bearing was somewhat rumpled. He looked almost as exhausted as Corin felt. Yet, despite him being a stranger, Corin knew somehow he was not a threat. So regardless of his confusion, Corin closed his eyes again and slept.

On Corin’s next awareness he had two realizations. He was still in the strange place and he still had a pounding headache. Even though he’d obviously been asleep for some time, he’d never been so weary. It was like weights were holding down his eyelids. Gradually though, he felt something that made him want to struggle more fully awake.

Din was holding his left hand, the one without the needle and the clip. He knew it was Din because he’d know Din’s hands anywhere. And who else would be slowly rubbing his thumb along Corin’s knuckles in a rhythmic, comforting way? Corin felt cold and Din’s hand was warm. Din had always looked after him, had always protected him, would never leave him vulnerable. So if Din was here, then Corin was safe.

Corin twitched his fingers in Din’s hand, made an attempt to squeeze, to acknowledge the comfort given. Din’s thumb stopped moving.

“Corin?” It was Din’s voice, sounding both stressed and hopeful at the same time. And yet, it wasn’t Din’s voice, because something about it was not familiar.

Corin tried moving his stiff neck, struggled to open his eyes. He felt Din’s other hand come up to his face, running fingers through his hair to cradle his jaw and sweep across his cheeks.

“Corin? It’s time to wake up now,” Din said softly. “You’ve been very sick, _mi corazón_ , but you need to come back to me. Come on, now. Open your eyes. Please, love, please open your eyes for me.”

Corin would do anything for Din. Surely opening his eyes couldn’t be such a monumental task?

Sucking in a deep breath, Corin blinked rapidly a few times and then managed to keep his eyelids from falling shut. The first thing he saw was the face of the man who’d been slumped in the chair from before. The man was leaning towards him, his expression anxious. Creases lined his forehead and one in particular cut down through his eyebrows. His worried brown eyes scanned Corin’s face. His cheeks had stubble like he’d gone a few days without grooming, but his moustache was full. His hair was sticking out in some places, as though he’d been pulling on it. And his mouth was turned down in a frown.

Then he noticed Corin’s eyes and he smiled. It completely transformed him, the lines of worry disappearing as his eyes crinkled and his distress melted into happy relief.

Corin stared, not quite believing what he was seeing. As the other’s man’s anxiety faded, Corin’s ratcheted up several notches. He immediately shut his eyes, turning away. That’s why Din’s voice was familiar yet different. Corin had never heard him speak without the helmet’s modulator before.

“Where...?” He tried to ask but could only rasp.

“Hang on,” said Din, pulling away. “I bet your throat is pretty sore.” Corin heard some rustling, then the sound of a tap turning on and off. “Here you go.”

Corin risked cracking his eyes to see a cup with a straw being brought to his mouth. He took a few sips cautiously. His throat was very dry and the water felt amazing. He kept his gaze on the cup and tried speaking again.

“What happened?”

Din sat back down. When he saw that Corin was done drinking, he put the cup on a table beside the bed.

“You’ve been very ill,” he said. “Do you remember coming to the hospital?”

Corin wracked his brain but came up blank. He couldn’t even think what the last thing he remembered doing was. He shook his head, keeping his eyes down.

“Where’s your armour?” he asked tensely.

“Armour?” asked Din cautiously. He ducked down, trying to get into Corin’s line of sight. Corin turned his head away. “Well, I don’t think I need any armour here. We’re safe. The war’s long over.” He took Corin’s hand again.

“Why did you take off your helmet?” Corin asked feeling queasy for reasons beyond his headache. He was utterly bewildered at Din’s attitude. How long could he have been sick that Din would have abandoned his creed and come to terms with it already?

“Hey, look at me,” Din said softly, reaching out to touch Corin’s chin and try to turn him back.

“No!” Corin wrenched out of his grasp and kept his eyes closed. “Tell me what happened.”

Din leaned over him and Corin drew away, but Din didn’t try to touch his face again. He pulled on one of the wires wrapped around the metal siding of the bed and pushed a button on the end of it. Then he sat back down, with just a hand laid over Corin’s.

“Let’s get the doc in here to check you out,” Din said. “She’ll be happy to see you’re awake. Are you...are you in pain?”

He was, but Corin was not going to let a little thing like pain distract him.

“Don’t...don’t...” He took another deep breath and then risked looking over at Din, keeping his view down below Din’s neck. “Tell me why...why did you take it off?”

“I can see you’re upset,” Din said gently. “But I don’t know how to answer you.”

Suddenly Corin felt a chill sweep over him.

“Where’s the kid?” he asked.

Din tensed, pulling back his hands into his lap. “The kid?”

“Yes, Din, the kid,” Corin said sharply. “The child, the baby, our son. Where is he? What happened?”

“He’s gone,” Din said hoarsely. He cleared his throat. “The baby’s gone.”

Before Corin could react to this shocking statement, the door opened and Hauroko walked in. She was wearing a white coat and had an instrument of some kind looped around her neck. Seeing he was awake, she smiled widely.

“Good evening! It’s so good you decided to join us.”

Din stood up abruptly and stepped back, allowing Hauroko to move closer to Corin. Din turned to face the window. It was dark outside, Corin noticed now, and he could see Din’s reflection on the glass. Din scrubbed his face with his hands.

“Hauroko,” Corin said, “please tell me what’s happening?”

She looked a little surprised, but still pleased. “You know my name. That’s good, you must have had some awareness.”

“Of course, I know you,” Corin said faintly. “Where’s Zev’sonya and Mose? And Leave-it?”

Hauroko twisted to look at Din who was still turned away.

“They’re work colleagues,” Din muttered. “No, more like friends really.”

Hauroko nodded and she looked a touch more serious than before. She pulled the instrument off her neck and put it in her ears. She leaned over Corin with the other end of it.

“What...what is that?” he asked. It didn’t look like it would hurt, whatever it was, but he felt completely turned upside down.

“My stethoscope? It’s for listening to your heart and lungs,” she said as she reached under the light fabric covering his chest and placed it against him. “Take some deep breaths for me,” she said as she moved the scope to several different places. Satisfied with whatever she heard, she straightened up and drew the fabric over him again. Then she pulled another item from her pocket and strapped it around his bicep. Holding the scope against his elbow, she pumped up the strap until it was almost painful and slowly let the air out again. Putting away her instruments, she looked up to the screen with all the wires and nodded. “Your lungs are clear, heart sounds good, blood pressure a little elevated, but temperature is back to normal. This is really good, Corin. You’re doing very well. How’s the headache?”

Corin winced. Hauroko nodded. “I can give you something for that. And you need a lot more rest. Your body has been through the wringer; give it time to heal.”

Corin opened his mouth then shut it again. He was a little wary to even ask any questions.Behind Hauroko, Din turned back around. Corin could see he was rubbing his wrist, a sure sign of tension. “I’m a little confused,” Corin said finally.

Hauroko nodded again. “A certain amount of disorientation is to be expected. Can you tell me your name?”

“Corin Valentis,” he said.

“And who’s this guy?” she asked, gesturing behind her.

“Din. Din Djarin.”

“Is he another work colleague?” She sounded amused at the thought.

“N-no, not really, we’re...we’re friends, I guess,” he said awkwardly. Corin always felt weird trying to put a label on their relationship.

Hauroko didn’t look amused anymore. She frowned. Behind her, Din had gone very still.

“Do you know where you are?” Hauroko asked.

“A...a med center? Um, hospital?” He thought that’s what Din had called it.

“We’re in a hospital,” she confirmed. “And do you know what city you’re in?”

It was quiet a moment. Corin swallowed. “No,” he said finally.

“Where do you live?”

“On the Razor Crest,” Corin said. “Wherever she takes us. I mean, sometimes at the castle and sometimes at the covert but no real home base.”

Hauroko and Din exchanged some looks that Corin averted his eyes before seeing.

“The castle is a nickname for his work,” Din said shortly, “But I don’t know what the covert means.”

_What?_

“You said wherever she takes you,” Hauroko noted. “Is the Razor Crest a vehicle?”

“A ship,” Corin said. The pounding behind his eyes was becoming unbearable. “You know this!”

“A sailing ship?” she asked.

“What? No, a space ship,” he said. “Pre-Imperial gun ship. Please, my head hurts so much. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Corin struggled to orient his memories in some kind of chronology. “I think…I think we were maybe going on a supply run? But I can’t remember the name of the place. A real skughole, but it had a great market at harvest time. There was a jorgan orchard. The kid loves jorgan fruit juice.”

She put a cool hand on his arm. “Okay, that’s enough for now. I’m going to get you something for the pain and we’ll re-evaluate in the morning.”

“But wait,” he tried to say but they were interrupted by another woman entering the room with a bag of fluid and a syringe.

“Time for some meds,” the new woman said, looking at Hauroko who nodded.

“Try to get some more sleep,” Hauroko said to Corin then she turned to Din. “A quick chat?”

“Yeah, sure,” Din said. He gave Corin’s leg a light squeeze as he left. “Be right back.”

Corin was distracted by the new IV bag and watched the woman inject something into the tube where the liquid was dripping down into the needle in his hand.

“All set,” she said. “You should feel some relief soon.”

“Thanks,” Corin mumbled.

When the woman left, the door didn’t fully latch and swung partially back open. Corin could see Hauroko in the corridor speaking with Din, who thankfully had his back to Corin. Din seemed agitated.

“…turned away like the sight of me burned his eyes. He kept asking about…about armour and a helmet. I haven’t worn such gear since the war and I didn’t know Corin back then.”

“Some disorientation is quite normal,” Hauroko said. “Including memory loss.”

“And what the hell was that about us being _friends_? He _guesses_?” Din had his hands on his hips.

“He knew who you were, that’s the important thing,” Hauroko said gently.

“Just before you showed up he asked me where the baby was,” Din said. His hands clenched in fists and he looked like he wanted to hit something.

“Do you have a baby?” Hauroko asked cautiously.

Din grabbed his hair on the top of his head, contributing further to its disarray, and then rubbed down his cheeks. “We had a baby boy,” he said, so softly Corin could barely hear the words. “But he…”

Whatever else Din said about the child was drowned out by a clatter from a cart being pushed down the corridor by a large, lumbering man. By the time the sound died enough for Corin to hear again Hauroko was asking Din a question.

“When did this happen?”

“About four months ago,” Din said. His shoulders slumped.

“A recent traumatic loss coupled with an infection cooking his brain, it’s not really surprising that he would have some confusion.”

“There’s confusion and _there’s believing we live on a space ship!”_ Din’s raised voice caused a passing couple to turn towards them with alarm. Hauroko waved them off. “Ah, I’m sorry…I’m sorry.” Din tilted his back to look at the ceiling and then rolled his neck. He crossed his arms, almost like he was hugging himself. “I’m sorry, doc, I shouldn’t…”

Hauroko reached out to hold him by the bicep. “Hey, you’re stressed, I get it. You haven’t exactly been taking care of yourself what with all that’s happened. Get a good night’s sleep, Corin will do the same. I’m going to call in a colleague to evaluate him. He’s doing really well, Din, especially compared to 48 hours ago. Hold on to that.”

“Yeah, that’s right, yeah, thanks. I…I’ll try. Thanks doc.”

Hauroko nodded and walked away.

Corin could feel the pull of the drugs weighing him down. He wasn’t going to be able to stay awake much longer. Din took a moment before pushing open the door and coming back to the chair by the bed. He tentatively reached out to take Corin’s hand.

“How’s your head?” he asked.

“Drugs are kicking in,” Corin said, his blinks becoming longer and longer. The numbness of the medication made him feel light, like he might float away. It came with a kind of fragility that he didn’t care for. How could their child be gone? It was impossible.

“Okay.” Din’s voice was soft. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Corin’s eyes stayed closed. He squeezed Din’s hand in acknowledgment. “I wanna go home,” he mumbled. He wanted to go back to the familiar place where Din wore beskar and Corin shared that by wearing his gifted pieces. To where they cared for a remarkable child together and fought the galaxy to keep him safe.

“Soon,” Din promised.


	2. Before-Finding Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din's POV - approximately 2 years before chapter 1

Din and Cara didn’t speak much on the drive from Nevarro to Arvala-7. Arvala was a poor district, still struggling in the aftermath of the war where so many others had managed to thrive. Borough 7 was the poorest of the poor, at the point of lawlessness. The refuge of last resort for far too many.

Din had been with the FBI Missing Persons Unit for over five years and could not recall in recent memory when a case had so thoroughly exhausted him. You had to compartmentalize in this line of work or you’d go mad, but once in a while a case would grab him and he’d find himself far too invested in the outcome. Fennec Shand was a mystery and maybe it was his love of puzzles that had appealed to his intrigue.

Fennec had been an imperial during the war and since she’d taken amnesty, her history was difficult to know. Official records were sealed according to the Amnesty Reconciliation Act, but unofficially they’d discovered she’d been a sniper and likely a lone operator, rather than support for infantry. An assassin. Those associates known only to her sealed records had probably been some that came out of the war attached to the gangs who now ran a thriving drug trade. There was evidence, in the post war period, that Fennec had become ensconced with the Five Families gang and strong evidence to suggest she’d been addicted to the drugs they peddled.

There was nothing about her that endeared her to Din. Except...except, for those who knew her more recently, those who had raised the alarm she was missing, those who told him that she was clean and had been for at least a year, maybe longer. Those who said her last work had been a decent job - a legal job - at a landscaping company of all places. While she’d started there by digging in dirt, her talent with technology put her in charge of the company’s website and online ordering system. Which is how she’d ended up working mostly remotely. And how no one had noticed at first, when she’d disappeared.

Din could not believe how weary he felt, as he parked the SUV near a run down trio of tenement apartment buildings. He had hoped that their chase would not lead them to this unhappy, dangerous neighbourhood, where there seemed no chance of a happy ending. He sighed.

Cara showed no eagerness to move either.

“What do you think we’ll find in there?” she asked.

“Nothing good,” he said, checking his sidearm. He locked the vehicle as they made their way towards the middle building.

There was no security at the door. In fact, the door did not even latch completely and they entered without incident. There were sounds throughout the building, even though the staircase was empty. It was as though ghosts inhabited the hallways with the sighs of lost tenants. Din needed to get a grip on his imagination. It was only that the walls and doors were so thin as to be almost pointless, and the living happening in every unit was open to all who walked by. The sound of angry voices, children crying, anguish and frustration in equal measure, the mutterings from those who had no one else to talk with but themselves.

Din and Cara got to the third floor without seeing anyone. Din let Cara lead, tensing as she lifted a hand to knock on door 315. She paused, jutting out her chin to him and drawing her weapon. He looked down to see that the door was open, the latch as useless as on the front door of the building, but it was hard to say if the damage was new or just the state of things. He drew his weapon and nodded to Cara.

Cara slowly pushed the door further open.

“Hello?” she called. “Anyone home?”

Silence, but for the whining of a dog from further down the hall. Another sound caught Din’s attention, making him even more cautious, but he couldn’t identify it yet.

Cara entered the unit slowly, checking carefully as she went, but there was not much to the place. A short hallway with a doorless closet that opened up to a room that functioned as kitchen and living space. A window at the far end was open and a flimsy white curtain flapped with a breeze, catching on the corner of a plain wooden table, bare except for the computer.

Cara relaxed her stance but even before she did Din could guess what they would find.

Fennec sat on a threadbare couch as though watching a non-existent tv. Her long, dark hair partially obscured her face, her expression slack. Drug paraphernalia was scattered beside her and on the floor. One pale arm had flopped to her side, her palm up, the track marks clear.

Din crouched down, knowing already there was no point, but checking for a pulse anyway.

“Shit,” he muttered.

He stood up to reexamine the room as Cara made the call for the coroner and the crime scene unit. While giving the address and other information, Cara tapped him on the shoulder with a pair of gloves. He took them, snapping them on his hands, while he moved into the kitchen area. Cara finished her call and put on her own gloves.

Din shook his head. “There’s something not right about this.”

“I know it’s not what you hoped,” Cara said, “but it seems pretty straightforward.”

“She had a good job,” Din said. “How did she end up here?”

“Maybe she never left,” Cara said. “Despite the good job. History has a strong pull on a person.”

“And look at this place,” Din said, turning around. “The building’s a dump, but this place is clean. It’s tidy. The dishes are done.” He gestured around the kitchen nook. “And-” There was that sound again just as Cara’s phone rang.

Din moved swiftly towards the bedroom while she answered the call. The room was as sparse as the rest of the place with a neatly made bed, a dresser, and a basket. The basket jiggled as Din heard the sound again. He knelt down and pulled aside a white piece of cloth to reveal a baby who was happily pulling on his toes. He paused when he saw Din’s face and then kicked out without any coordination and gurgled again. His light blue onesie had Mama’s Boy scrawled across it and his dark hair had a soft curl. He had the biggest ears on a baby that Din had ever seen, not that he was an expert in baby ears by any means, but Din chuckled a little at the look of him. It was as though he still needed to grow into them. Din had spent a considerable amount of time recently looking at photos of Fennec Shand and he could see her features in the baby’s face.

Din held out a finger, which caught the baby’s attention and he swiped at it with chubby fingers. On the second pass the baby managed to grab ahold of Din’s finger with a surprisingly strong grip. The baby put Din’s finger into his mouth and chomped down on it, a squeak sounding as latex met drooling gums.

Din reached down and gently scooped the baby up with his other hand. The child was so tiny he fit between Din’s elbow and hand. Din successfully extricated his finger so he could properly support the wiggly boy against his body. He stepped back into the main room as Cara ended her call.

“Well, that was...what the hell is that?” Cara asked, shocked.

“How did we not know about this?” Din asked her back. “How did she manage to have a baby and we didn’t know?”

Possibly reacting to Din’s tone, the baby let out a wail, looking distressed for the first time.

“No one we spoke to had actually seen her for some time,” Cara reminded him. “It might be an explanation,” she added, turning towards Fennec’s body.

Din shielded the baby from the couch, even though he wasn’t sure how much the child could possibly understand what was there.

“She was clean,” Din said. “She was employed. She kept her home neat. This baby is well cared for. How is he an explanation for...for that?” He didn’t even want to say it in the baby’s hearing.

“Having a baby is hard, Din,” Cara said, gently. “Maybe it got to be too much for her. Maybe it led her back to old comforts.”

Now that he’d started to cry, the baby kept going, as if suddenly realizing his needs were not being met, and Din thought he must be hungry and need a new diaper at the same time. Unsure how to help either of those situations he froze, torn between seeking supplies back in the bedroom, or trying to find something baby appropriate in the kitchen.

Cara pulled out her phone again. “I’ll get child protection here.”

Din retreated to the bedroom and placed the baby on the middle of the bed while he searched the rest of the area. The baby’s face was red, his features scrunched up with righteous baby rage. Din found himself talking aloud, voicing his thoughts in a kind of sing song voice in hopes of offering some comfort.

“Where would your mama keep your things, hey little man? She must have had some - here we go. I told you we’d find it,” he said, even though he had made no such promise. Diaper in one hand and wipes in the other he looked down at the baby with some consternation. “I have no idea what to do now,” he said and the baby wailed louder.

Cara came into the room to hear this. “No available case workers, typical,” she said. “Oh for the love of stars, Djarin, don’t you know how to change a diaper?”

“Now why in hell would I know something like that?” he asked, frustrated.

Muttering about the inadequacy of male genetics, Cara snatched the diaper and wipes from him. “Go find some formula and a bottle and let me take care of this.”

Din gladly retreated to the kitchen. He could not believe how anxious the baby’s cries were making him. The only other time he remembered registering emotion at a baby crying was on a long haul flight from hell and on that occasion the result hadn’t been anxiety but aggravation. Opening cupboards methodically he located a bottle, thankfully with a lid and nipple. Four cupboards later he found a canister of dry formula and spun it around looking for directions.

Cara’s diaper changing hadn’t calmed the baby one bit and he flailed and wiggled his displeasure in a full bodied howl as she carried him back over to Din. Din shook the bottle and hoped he’d mixed it correctly. He tried to hand Cara the bottle at the same time she tried to pass him the baby. She looked him, one eyebrow arched. He put down the bottle with a sigh and tried to gather the wriggling, squirming, angry mess of a baby into his arms. Whether or not the baby recognized food was close, or whether he saw Din as being more comforting than Cara it was hard to say. But he did calm enough to take a few quiet hiccupping breaths and allow Din to get the bottle near his mouth.

It was amazingly quiet with only the sound of the baby drinking.

After a moment, Din felt restless and walked back into the bedroom to where he’d found the diapers in Fennec’s closet. There was a diaper bag there, and a baby carrier - the kind that fit into a carseat. Fennec didn’t own a car, so far as they knew. He looked down at the basket where the baby had been sleeping. He wandered back to the other room where Cara was still trying to get through to child protection.

Outside it started to rain. There was the sound of a group of young men, probably foolish and possibly high, getting into an argument. The raised voices were totally incongruent with the peace that had descended on Fennec’s unit. The baby sucked some more and then quite abruptly spit out the bottle, with a mouthful of formula trickling down his face. Din put the bottle on the counter and grabbed the dishcloth from the sink to wipe the child’s chin.

“Hold him upright,” Cara said, still on her phone. When Din looked over to her with a bewildered expression she sighed and shook her head. “So he can burp. Hold him upright. On your shoulder. Moron.”

“There are words for you, Dune, that cannot be said in front of these young ears,” Din said calmly, as he shifted the baby gently in his arms. Feeling more confident that he wasn’t going to drop the baby - it helped that the child seemed content to just snuggle against him - Din went back to the bedroom to collect the supplies he’d scouted out. He dumped everything into the basket and grabbed the carseat carrier.

The altercation with the youths moved into the building and out of the rain. The sound of their angry disagreement echoed in the stairwell and seemed to seep through the walls. Cara was inspecting the door to see if it would latch, when suddenly a gunshot rang out.

Being in a battle was not a new experience for Din (or Cara for that matter), but an overpowering urge to protect the infant from harm added an unfamiliar dimension. Din was so thoroughly rattled by it that he let Cara handle the local law enforcement when they finally showed up. He gathered everything he could find for the baby and loaded it in the SUV. He put the child down in the basket in the back with the hatch open while he wrestled with getting the carrier secured with a seatbelt.

A low-level uniformed officer started to pester him for a statement.

“My partner has already given you the details,” Din said, over his shoulder.

“Well, yes,” said the officer, partially distracted by watching the baby trying to grab his toes. “What a cutie! But I still need your description of events.”

“I’ll send you a signed statement by the end of the day,” Din said, giving the carrier a yank and frowning when it moved. He unclipped the seatbelt to try again.

“If I could just-” the officer started, but Din spotted a van arriving at the parking lot. He abandoned the carrier, scooped up the baby and locked his vehicle again.

“There’s my crime scene unit,” he said to the officer. He stepped away, and then pivoted back with a sigh. “Look, I know you’re just doing your job. But I have a case to work as well. I have a dead mother and an abandoned baby and the petty squabbles of a couple of dumb teenagers don’t rank compared to that. They’re lucky no one was hurt or...or worse.”

The officer closed his notebook. “Fair enough.”

<><><><><>

Later, as Din typed out his statement to email to the Arvala PD he watched Cara gather up all the information on Fennec Shand from their active cases board and felt an overwhelming sense of frustration.

“If we’d been just a few hours-”

“Shut it down, sailor,” Cara interrupted sharply. Then she sighed and added softly, “You can’t let this stuff eat you up, Din.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “you’re right.”

“Can somebody tell me what the hell is in my office?” Greef Karga, their team lead, asked with equal parts annoyance and bewilderment. He had just returned from court.

“Keep it down, Karga,” Din said coming to his feet to go into Karga’s office. “It took forever to get him to fall asleep.”

Cara spluttered with a laugh that she turned into a cough under Karga’s withering glare.

“I’m waiting for an answer,” Karga said, as Din closed the office door.

“He’s a baby,” Din said flatly.

“I can see it’s a baby, Djarin, I’m not blind. What the hell is it doing in my office?”

Din and Cara exchanged looks. Cara went back to boxing up their case. Din let out a long breath.

“We believe he’s Fennec Shand’s son. We found him at her friend’s apartment in Arvala-7. I haven’t been able to find his birth records as it looks like she was deliberately hiding him from-”

Karga held up a hand. “I don’t need a debrief on your case right now. Get it out of my office.”

Din bristled.

“We haven’t been able to get a case worker from CPS yet,” Cara said. “Apparently, having a child in FBI custody is safer than some other emergency they’re dealing with today.”

“Can we drop it somewhere?” Karga asked.

“He is not a piece of evidence!” Din said sharply. “He’s a human being.”

The office was quiet with the rustling of other team’s working. Someone’s phone rang and was answered. Karga looked from Din to Cara and back to Din.

“Well, we can’t leave it - him - where he is,” Karga said.

Cara picked up her desk phone. “I’ll try again to see-”

“I’ll take him home with me,” Din said, cutting her off. She put down the receiver.

“Djarin,” Karga started, but Din interrupted him as well.

“Corin is certified with CPS because of his work. It makes most sense that I take him home.”

<><><><><>

 _Makes the most sense_ , Din thought as he sat in his car on the driveway listening to ticks of the engine as it cooled. _As if any of this makes any sense._

Din tried very hard to leave his work at the office and not bring it into his home. He knew he wasn’t always successful. Some cases were harder than others to shut down at the end of the day. However, he couldn’t think of a time when he’d so tangibly brought work home. This was something much more than a file of crime scene photos or a forensics report.

“Guess we have to go in, hey _hombrecito_?” he asked. The baby offered no opinion. [Little man]

Given how long it had taken him to get the carrier solidly secured, he didn’t want to unclip the belt. So he removed the baby from the carrier and grabbed the basket full of stuff. The basket was top heavy with a package of diapers, making him awkward as he entered the house. He dropped the basket and stepped into the living area.

Corin sat at the dining table working on his laptop. He had his back to Din.

“Hey, you’re home,” Corin said. “There’s some leftover pasta if you want to heat up a plate. I wasn’t sure if you would’ve already eaten.”

“Thanks,” Din said.

“How was your day?” Corin asked. “You’re late so you must have had a break in your case?”

“We found her,” Din said.

Something in his voice must have signalled to Corin that something was wrong because he turned to look at Din with concern.

“Are you alright?” Corin stood, looking surprised. “Oh, who...who is this?” He moved closer and reached out a hand to cup over the baby’s head where it rested against Din’s shoulder.

“He’s Fennec’s son,” Din said softly. “She’s dead.” He closed his eyes.

Corin reached his free arm around Din to pull him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Din.”

“Yeah, me too. It’s been a crap day, you know?”

Corin pulled back and took the baby from him. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know yet,” Din said. “Still trying to find birth records, maybe even, hopefully, his father.”

“Well,” said Corin as he gently bopped the baby’s nose, “until you do, he can stay with us, can’t you buddy? Yes, you can.”


	3. Now: Corin Goes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin is allowed out of the hospital but keeps discovering things that are different, including his relationship with Din.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corin's POV

The next morning Corin woke to the disappointment of still being in the hospital but also the welcome relief of having all the wires and tubes removed by an efficient and cheerful nurse. The food provided was unappealing and bland, but he did his best to eat it all thinking it was a requirement to allow him to leave.

He wondered where Din had gone and whether he’d be back.

By the time Hauroko showed up to check him over Corin was beginning to worry. As Hauroko used her scope again, and shone lights in his eyes, Corin screwed up enough courage to ask,

“Where’s Din?”

“I sent him home,” Hauroko said. She was writing some notes on a clipboard. “Poor guy hasn’t had a decent sleep in over a week. You had us pretty concerned for a while there.”

“Sorry,” Corin said, although he hadn’t had any control of the situation.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Hauroko said, running her fingers along his neck to feel for swelling. “But I thought you should be aware in case he has a breakdown or something.”

“I doubt that will happen,” Corin said. “I can’t even imagine what that would look like.”

As though summoned by their thoughts of him, Din opened the door and entered, holding a small bag.

“Hey, you’re looking better,” he said and Corin could tell even though he kept his eyes on the floor that Din was smiling. “I brought you some things.” Din held out the bag to Corin, who took it. “Just a change of clothes and some toiletries.”

“Thanks,” Corin said, relieved that he wouldn’t be leaving in this strange garment that only had laces (and too few of those) to keep it closed. He stood up, only a little shakily, and reached for the tie at his neck.

“Uh, why don’t you go into the washroom,” Din said, putting out a hand to prevent Corin from stripping down. He pointed to the door opposite the bed.

“Sure, okay,” Corin said, a little embarrassed.

The washroom turned out to be a refresher with a sink, toilet, and bathtub. Corin stared at his face in the mirror. He looked terrible. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, his skin was pale, and there were dark patches around his eyes. He had several days’ worth of stubble, almost a full beard, which was not a look he’d ever liked.

He splashed some water on his face and wasgrateful Din had provided both a comb and toothbrush. He divested himself of the hospital garment and dressed in unfamiliar but comfortable clothes - a long sleeved green shirt and soft loose navy trousers with a drawstring. He slipped on a pair of low cut boots that were well worn in and fit like his feet were used to them.

He could hear Din and Hauroko speaking but couldn’t make out their conversation through the door. He faced his reflection again and gave himself a stern talking to. He would figure this out and get back to his Mandalorian and baby.

“Everything okay in there?” Din asked.

Corin pulled open the door and stepped back into the room. Hauroko was gone.

“Can we go?”

“We’re just waiting for-” Before Din could finish a short woman with an unruly head of curls walked into the room and closed the door.

“Peli Motto,” she said. “Which of you is Corin?”

Corin lifted a shaky hand. After looking him up and down, Peli nodded at him.

“Sit down before you collapse,” she said. “And you must be Din?”

“That’s right,” said Din cautiously. “And who are you again?”

Peli reached into her pocket and fished out a small white card which Din took slowly and examined. Corin perched on the end of the bed.

“Peli Motto,” she said again. “Psychiatrist and psychotherapist. Hauroko asked me to consult.”

She turned to Corin. “So, I’ve seen your file. Has there been any change since last night?”

“What kind of change?” asked Corin nervously.

“Confusion, disorientation, hallucinations, delusions, memory loss,” rattled off Peli like any of these would be perfectly normal. Corin stayed silent. “I can’t help you, kid, unless you talk to me. Anything you say to me is just between us. There are no wrong answers.”

“I think,” said Din when Corin still didn’t speak, “I think, maybe, there’s some memory loss.”

“I remember everything perfectly fine,” said Corin sharply, even though he still couldn’t remember how he got to this strange place.

Peli looked from one to the other. She sat on Din’s chair.

“A slight difference of opinion,” she said. “So let’s try this. Do you remember how you met?”

“Of course,” said Corin. He looked at Peli as this was easier than looking at Din’s feet. “His ship was shot down. I was stationed as a snowtrooper and my squad was sent out to bring him in with the asset. He was injured. I saved him and the child from freezing to death and then the child saved me from…from falling in a crevasse.” Corin paused, hoping they wouldn’t press him for details on how a baby could have done that. But Peli seemed completely unfazed. She turned to Din.

“Is that how you would describe it?”

Din took a moment before speaking. Then he took a breath and told a different story.

“We met post war at a conference on truth and reconciliation. We were on a panel arguing the pros and cons of the ARA - the Amnesty Reconciliation Act. We were both against it, for different reasons.”

“No child?” asked Peli.

“No,” Din said stiffly. “The baby…came much later.”

“I’d say we’re still having a difference of opinion,” Peli said. Then she started talking about the brain and brain chemistry, and the nature of memories - how they are formed and later retrieved. And she talked about Corin’s illness and how his infection and high fever may have rewired things and how the concussion he’d recovered from a few months back may be complicating matters. But Corin wasn’t really listening to these details. He was thinking of Din’s version of how they met and how different it was from his own. Yet Din had spoken with confidence, as though there wasn’t any doubt as to how and where it happened.

_This can’t be Din_ , Corin thought. _At least, not the Din I know_. Maybe he’d somehow fallen into an alternate reality where Din Djarin was not a Mandalorian, did not have a child who channelled the Force, and had not saved Corin from execution. If that were true then this Din was not the man who loved him and who’d made love to him with such amazing touches. Not the man who told him he was beautiful and should be himself and never change. The entire idea of it made Corin feel angry. Because this Din was here and his Din was not and Corin wasn’t sure whether to punch something or burst into tears.

Peli appeared to have finished her dissertation on the intricacies of brain anatomy.

“So what do we do now?” asked Din.

“Why do we have to do anything?” Corin asked sullenly.

“Well…I guess it would be nice to…to not have…this…this difference of opinion,” Din said slowly, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain.

“Yeah, do nothing, how’s that working out for you?” Peli asked Corin. “You think that’s a good idea do you?”

“I’m not broken,” Corin said. “And I’m not crazy.”

“Corin, nobody thinks-” Din started.

“Who said anything about crazy?” Peli interrupted. “We’re just going to lift up the hood and tinker a bit in the gears and get you back to smooth running.”

Corin stared at her. “I have no idea what you just said,” he said finally.

Unexpectedly Din let out a burst of laughter that he couldn’t seem to contain. This, combined with Peli’s raised eyebrows, made Corin start laughing. Once he started it was hard to stop. It had a tinge of hysteria, but it dissipated his anger somewhat.

“Like two peas in a pod,” Peli muttered. “Okay, you have an appointment at my office tomorrow. We’ll get things sorted out, don’t you worry.”

When Peli left the room there was an awkward silence between them. Corin felt Din examining him but Corin kept his gaze firmly on the ground. Just as Corin sensed Din was gearing up to say something, maybe challenge him on some of things he’d said, Din mumbled, “Excuse me,” and left the room.

Corin waited a few minutes and was just beginning to think that he should go looking for Din when the door opened again and Hauroko came in pushing a chair on wheels with Din behind her.

“We are kicking you out of here,” she said to Corin with a grin. “And not to be taken the wrong way, but I hope you don’t come back.”

“What’s the chair for?” he asked.

“Mostly because if you were to faint on your way to the door, we might have to readmit you,” Hauroko said dryly.

Corin eyed the chair suspiciously.

“Humour me,” Din said quietly. There really wasn’t any way to refuse, and Corin did still feel a little shaky. He sat down and Din helped him get his feet on the rests. Corin held the bag in his lap as Din maneuvered the chair around and into the hall. Hauroko patted his shoulder and wished him well, disappearing in the opposite direction.

As they made their way down the corridor, making slow progress due to having to avoid all the other visitors, hospital staff, and equipment that cluttered the space, Corin was surprised at the number of people who gave him a wave, or a smile, and one nurse even called out from behind a desk, “Looking good, Corin!”

“I don’t feel that I look that good,” he mumbled, remembering the gaunt face that had greeted him in the mirror.

Din leaned down to speak into his ear. “Then you’re just going to have to take my word for it.” Corin shivered at the sensation of Din’s breath on his neck.

One crowded elevator and three corridors later, they came to wide double doors that slid open automatically and went outside to a patch of covered pavement. It was raining.

“You stay here,” Din said. “I’ll bring the car around. Oh, one more thing…” Din got down on his knees by Corin’s feet, making it much more difficult to avoid looking at his face. He pulled a chain from around his neck and spilled two rings off it onto his palm. “They made me take yours off. Worried about theft I think. It didn’t feel right wearing mine when you didn’t have yours.” He put one on himself and before Corin could even react slid the other on the ring finger of Corin’s left hand. Both his hands held Corin’s now and Din squeezed lightly. “That’s better.” Din brought Corin’s hands up to his mouth and kissed his fingers softly. It was a gesture done so quickly, almost like a reflex, that Corin didn’t even have a chance to pull away before Din was standing once more.“I’ll be right back.”

Corin took a few deep breaths as he watched Din jog out into the rain. He tried to slow down the hammering of his heart. He looked down at his hands, lying passively in his lap, now adorned with what must be a wedding ring. Corin pulled it off his finger to examine it feeling a swirling sensation of doubt and confusion. The ring was a shiny silver colour and plain, except for two raised lines of the same material that ran down the middle and crossed each other twice. His eyesight blurred a little and he blinked a few times. He couldn’t shake his first impression that but for its size it resembled a very familiar beskar pauldron. He turned the ring and noticed there was writing engraved on the inside, but he couldn’t make out the words. He put it back on his finger.

_They were married? They were married!_

A splash from a puddle drew his attention up and Din arrived in the strangest looking speeder Corin had ever seen. For starters, it had wheels. Just like the chair, Corin realized. There didn’t seem to be any maglev here.

Din got out and came to help Corin, opening the vehicle’s side door for him and reaching in to pull on the belt strap.

“I can do it,” Corin said.

So Din gently closed the door and went around to his side, hopping in and clicking in his seatbelt before Corin had managed to fully secure his strap. But Din didn’t intervene again, merely waited until Corin was ready and then drove the vehicle away from the hospital.

The ride was quiet, with only the sound of the rain and the wipers clearing the windshield. Corin alternated between looking out the window at the unfamiliar city and looking at his hands in his lap, twisting the ring around.

“We should be home in about 20 minutes,” Din said. He added quietly, “And I, for one, am thankful for that.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” Corin said, without really thinking about it. The ring seemed heavy on his finger.

Din glanced over at him then returned his focus to the traffic around them. “Is this about the different memories? The…the helmet and why you won’t look at me?” Corin didn’t say anything. Din sighed. “Look, to say it’s been a tough week is an understatement, but… A few days ago I got a glimpse of you leaving me and I’m not going to lie - it scared the shit out of me. So if we have to deal with some fallout, I’m okay with that. Because you’re here, you’re with me, and that’s all that matters.” He reached over to put a hand on Corin’s thigh. “Peli said there were no wrong answers, and I’ll say there are no wrong questions.” He paused and squeezed Corin’s leg. “Ask me anything, _mi corazón_. I won’t be angry, I promise.” He took his hand back to put on the wheel as they made a turn.

_Ask him anything? Where to begin when everything seemed unreal?_

“Are they beskar?” Corin asked, deciding to start small. “The rings, I mean.”

“White gold,” Din said. Then, a little tentatively, “What’s beskar?”

“Beskar is the metal that Mandalorians use for their armour,” Corin said, his throat feeling tight that he had to explain this to Din of all people.

“Mandalorians, huh,” Din said. “I’m a Mandalorian, but I’m not familiar with beskar. My armour was more of the kevlar variety.”

“You’re a Mandalorian? But…” Corin’s question never formed.

“Well, I’m Mandalorian in the sense that I was born in the District of Mandalore, but I haven’t been back there since I was a small child. The war was not kind to Mandalore. There’s probably more expats than Mandalorians still living in the district.”

That sounded suspiciously similar to the fate of Mandalore in Corin’s mind. He realized he didn’t know very much about Mandalorian history and Din had never been very chatty about his past. He decided to pull back to simpler things.

“What does the writing say?”

“ _Más que ayer, menos que mañana_ ,” Din said. Corin heard the smile in his voice.

“Mando’a?” Corin asked even though he didn’t recognize the words at all.

“Spanish,” Din said. “Mando’a is a dead language. Even my grandparents didn’t speak it.” They stopped at a traffic light. Corin had noticed the lights seemed to control the direction of vehicles. Din looked over at him and Corin went back to examining the ring. “It’s from a saying,” Din said softly. “ _Hoy te quiero más que ayer, pero menos que mañana_ , which means I love you more than yesterday but less than tomorrow.”

Their light changed and Din started driving again. Corin felt a kind of warmth wash through him. It reminded him of the first time Din told him he loved him. _More than yesterday, less than tomorrow._

“That’s beautiful,” Corin said. “Makes it seem…” He stopped. Sometimes his mouth got ahead of his brain.

The rain got harder all of a sudden and Din increased the wipers’ speed. Visibility was poor, making Corin feel like they were isolated in the vehicle, protected from all those around them.

“What does it seem like?” Din asked.

“Like it’s not going to come to an end,” Corin said. “Like it would go on forever.” An eternity of good luck.

Din cleared his throat and shifted a little in his seat. “I can only speak for me, of course, but I’m pretty sure that’s the idea.” The vehicle pulled up in front of a small building and Din turned off the engine. “We’re home.”


	4. Before: Child Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din searches for the baby's family and Corin puts forth a scary proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din's POV

The morning after finding Fennec, Din was up early, although to say he’d been asleep was a mischaracterization of the truth. No one with an infant in the house sleeps well, especially not when said infant had done a good bit of sleeping in Karga’s office the afternoon before. Bleary-eyed,Din took himself into his office, deciding he could use the extra time to do some digging before it was all out of his hands.

Technically, since Fennec was now accounted for, Din’s case was closed. The local Arvala law enforcement, such as it was, would determine if foul play was involved and investigate accordingly. Child protection, whenever they managed to make an appearance, was responsible for finding the baby’s family or if none was found then placing the baby in someone’s care. So really, all Din had to do was catalogue their evidence and pass it along.

But the Arvala PD hadn’t even acknowledged his statement from yesterday and CPS still had no case worker assigned to the baby, and it was 6:00 in the morning which was a good two hours earlier than Din usually made it to his desk.

There were no birth records for Fennec’s baby in the District of Arvala where she was living, or the District of Nevarro where she was working. They’d managed to determine that much the night before. They’d suspected that she’d had dealings with the Five Families gang, so he tried the District of Tatooine. Nothing came up, but he left a mental flag on it as Tatooine’s bureaucracy was known to be a bit of a shambles and somewhat prone to corruption. It might require face to face contact with one of the clerks. He tried with primary records in Coruscant, as the New Republic’s capital city touted itself as being all knowing even if they were only at the beginning of what was surely a years long project of centralization. It was always possible that Fennec had gone to Coruscant in an effort to cover up the birth of her child as the sprawling, chaotic city was a haven for under the radar activities.

Cara arrived with two coffees. She did not look at all surprised to find him already there.

“Where’d you stash the kid?” she asked. “Please tell me he’s in Karga’s office again. I love seeing that vein pop on his temple.”

“Corin took him to the castle,” Din said shortly. He snatched one of the coffees and ducked when she swatted at his head.

“So what have you found?” asked Cara, sitting at her own desk, across from his.

One of the things he loved about working with Cara was that so often she instinctively knew how he’d react. Rather than point out that Din was overstepping their jurisdiction on the case, she jumped right in to helping him.

“A fat load of nothing,” Din said. He took a sip of coffee. “And maybe there’s nothing to find. There’s still a lot of places she could have gone that wouldn’t keep records.”

“It doesn’t really fit, though, does it?” Cara asked. “Fennec was amnestied which indicates a mindset of being an active participant in the brave New Republic. That doesn’t jibe with someone who would have an undocumented child.”

“Or,” Din countered, “she wanted his records to be just as inaccessible as her own.”

“To have no record of birth is a huge burden to place on a child, if she expected him to be a citizen,” Cara said. “It would put him at odds with her efforts to go the straight and narrow.”

“Unless she had reason to fear someone discovering his existence.” Din took another sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair to gaze up at the ceiling. “Why did she hide her pregnancy?”

It was unavoidable in their line of work to form impressions of the missing person, even to the point of defining a kind of personality for them. It did sometimes happen that when the person was found they turned out to be completely different from the persona formed in the unfolding of the case. But one of the reasons Din was so good at what he did was that very often he was right when he teased out human motivation from case data. In this case, there would be no way of knowing if the Fennec in his head was at all like the Fennec now dead in the morgue. She’d been a series of contradictions right from the start.

“Lots of reasons,” Cara said. “One - she had a moralistic, controlling family who would be disgraced with a pregnancy out of wedlock.”

“Not the case here,” Din said, still looking up at the ceiling. “We haven’t found any living family at all.”

“Two - she was devout in a religion that preached abstinence before marriage,” Cara offered.

“Not the case here,” Din repeated.

“Three - she was in a relationship with someone who was not the father.”

“We saw nothing to indicate she was in a relationship with anyone, and seriously, what kind of relationship are you in that you can hide carrying a child for nine months? Come on, Dune, you can do better.”

“Four - she didn’t want the father to know about the child,” said Cara.

“Bingo!” said Din, tilting up his chair with a creak and taking another big swallow of coffee. “Why not?”

“He was abusive? Disapproving? Wanted her to abort? Threatened to take the child from her? Threatened her?”

“Threatened her enough to kill her?” Din asked sadly.

“Not our call anymore,” Cara reminded him. “I’d say we have ninety minutes to two hours tops before Karga’s in here with a new chase for us.”

“Then let’s make them count,” Din said.

It was almost at the two hour mark, with Karga flipping through files in his office in the way he did before assigning them to teams, that Din found something.

“Gotcha,” he said, quietly. Cara lifted her head from where she was hunched over scrolling through records. “Huh.” Din leaned back from his screen.

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” Cara said.

“About three months ago Fennec took some time off. This was about three months after her last sighting at her primary address in Nevarro.”

“Yeah, her coworkers were pretty unclear on that. Some said they thought she went somewhere on a vacation but others thought she was dealing with a family issue.”

“Why not both?” Din said. He sent Cara some links from his computer. “Remember those texts to that burner number we weren’t able to trace? The ones asking for recipes from “grandmama”?”

Cara was clicking and typing on her computer. “Yeah, we figured it was probably some kind of code for jobs she was doing on the side. You think it was something else?”

“The text sent just before her time off, around the time of her baby’s birth, asked for a recipe for Tiingilar, which is a really spicy Mandalorian stew.”

“Was she trying to trigger labour?” Cara asked, amused.

“No, smartass, she took her holiday in the District of Mandalore,” Din said. “And since no one in their right mind would vacation in Mandalore, she went there to have her child. As you can see, from the District of Mandalore’s vital statistics department’s record of birth of one Matias Shand, born April 22, weighing 8 pounds, 3 ounces, and son of Fennec Shand from District of Nevarro and Derge Thilleon from District of Dantooine.”

Din’s sense of triumph was almost immediately overwhelmed by a feeling of regret. He didn’t like this Derge Thilleon based on…based on what? That he’d abandoned Fennec and her child? That Fennec had hidden the birth to keep Thilleon away? Din didn’t know if any of that was true. He only knew he felt a strange resistance to the idea of handing the baby over to this person.

Cara sent him back some links she’d uncovered.

“Derge Thilleon, captain in Imperial infantry, served primarily in the District of Hoth, did not take amnesty, born…” Cara trailed off. “He’s a bit old for her.”

Din’s conflicting sense of triumph and regret faded completely as he examined the record Cara had sent and inexplicably he felt relief instead.

“Not only a bit old for her, but also a bit too dead to have been Matias’s father. He died three years ago.”

“Maybe artificial insemination?” Cara asked, but her tone indicated her disbelief.

“Or maybe she used a dead man’s name to fulfill the birth record’s requirements because she didn’t want the real father known,” Din said. He stood up and leaned over, feeling stiffness in his back. “So basically we are back to a fat load of nothing.”

“We have his name,” Cara said. “That’s something. And here comes something else.” She looked over Din’s shoulder.

Din turned to see an unfamiliar woman weaving her way through the cubicles slowly looking at the name plates by the desks. She had long, dark hair tied back in a braid that sat over her right shoulder and caught on her visitor’s ID tag that hung around her neck. Din easily classified her as she approached. Brown skin and dark hair, so from a southern district, likely Sorgan given the shape of her face and eyes; a visitor who knew how to find the agents but not one who’d been here before as she was checking names, not faces. She had the weary bearing of one who had too much to do without enough resources, and yet an air of determination so she wasn’t one to walk away from what needed to be done. Child protection had finally found a case worker for them.

<><><><>

Din offered to take the case worker, Omera, to the castle where Corin had the baby. She had been more than a little stern with him, first for taking the child home, and then for not bringing him back. So it was partly to placate her irritation and partly because he felt obligated to see this through to the end for Fennec that he said he’d drive them over.

The castle was named for its location in an early century military structure that was built out of the stone on the side of a hill. It looked like a hybrid of a castle and a fort, with turrets on the front facing corners and even an imposing looking arched entrance with two enormous doors that were permanently closed in favour of a more human sized door cut out of one of them.

Din had long appreciated the resourcefulness of Zev’sonya ever since they’d first worked together during the war, which she’d spent coordinating the defection of imperial military personnel in a kind of underground resistance. He’d often wondered how she’d managed to wrangle the deed to the impressive building. She was tight lipped on details which, as an officer of the law, made him wonder if they involved illegal activities. However she’d done it, she’d created a resource that was invaluable to so many post-war lost souls. Aligned with the Kryze Foundation, it had started with an employment center that helped people apply and interview for jobs. This expanded to a day care center that looked after the children of the newly employed. Then it morphed into a food bank and soup kitchen that fed kids before and after school and taught them how to shop for and cook their own meals. There were barracks made available to those who had no home; these expanded in times of extreme weather, to house those who would otherwise be on the street. It seemed that whatever the need, whenever it arose, Zev’sonya could find a solution.

It was no surprise to Din that the majority of Zev’s “clients” were former imperials who’d chosen not to take amnesty. They were the people she’d brought over to the republican side during the war and they were also those who had the most difficulty integrating into New Republic society.

One of the ways she helped was by employing an expanding team of people to assist her in executing her plans. Corin was one such employee; he worked with children that ranged from babies to teens. As such, he had undergone a security check and was registered with child protection as safe to work with and foster children.

Omera was not appeased by Din’s explanation and took the time of the short drive to verify this was indeed the case. Din tried not to feel too insulted that she’d doubted his word. She typed furiously with her thumbs on her phone and took two calls, negating the need for him to provide any kind of conversation. When they arrived at the castle, she slammed the passenger door so hard Din winced, and made a mental note to check for damage later.

He held the door open for her and she marched in. Unlike at his office, he had the sense that she’d likely been here before.

A cheerful, blond man with a crazy obnoxious neon yellow shirt sat at the reception. If possible, his grin widened on recognizing Din.

“Yo, Papa Din,” he said.

Din smiled stiffly as Omera narrowed her eyes.

“Hey Leave-it,” Din said, emphasizing the nickname, “where’s Corin?”

“Gymnasium,” Leave-it said, jerking a thumb towards the corridor to the right of the desk. “Rumble, jumble time.”

“Thanks,” Din said, gesturing for Omera to follow him.

“Your baby’s super cute, man!” Leave-it called after them.

In the quiet of the corridor, Din tried to explain Leave-it, but Omera held up a hand. “I’ve met him before,” she said curtly.

Din pushed open the swinging door to the gymnasium, a large open room that could accommodate any number of indoor sports as well as offering a place to run on days when outside activities were impractical. At the moment it had a group of very young children rolling and tumbling on mats that snaked across the floor. Corin was on his hands and knees, with two small boys on his back, fending off a fearless girl who faced him with,

“But now I’m a dragon!”

“Fire breathing?” Corin asked, with exaggerated worry.

“Naturally.” The girl scoffed, like there was no other kind.

“But can you fly?” asked one of the boys on Corin’s back.

“Have you never met a dragon? Of course I can fly!”

“We’re done for,” Corin declared, and rolled over, ending up with all three children on his front.

Seeing him like this, Din could appreciate the utter exhaustion that Corin felt some days. And it was only 9:30 in the morning. Then Corin spotted Din and he hopped to his feet, disengaged some little arms clinging to his legs, and walked over. Din introduced Omera and felt strangely nervous.

“Where’s the baby?”

“He’s over here,” Corin said, walking back towards the mats. In a corner there was a cot set up and the baby lay with a blanket, kicking his feet much like he had been when Din had found him. “I’m hoping he’ll go down for a nap soon, but it’s probably too loud in here. We’re almost done anyway, and then I’ll move to a quieter spot.”

Din leaned over to pick up the baby, using a corner of the blanket to wipe away some spit that was trickling over his chin.

“Hard to sleep with all these dragons, hey _hombrecito_?” Then he looked over at Corin with mock seriousness, “For the love of sun and stars, do not let him sleep all day.”

“They don’t do much else at this age,” Omera said. Din turned to her, startled. She’d almost sounded amused. “Forget about sleeping through night, at least until you establish a routine.”

“Establish a routine,” Din said faintly.

“Did you find out anything about his family?” Corin asked, diverting attention to him. Omera deferred to Din, who’d started to sway back and forth slightly.

“We found his birth records, but the father’s name was a false lead.” Din sighed. “His name is Matias.”

“Okay, can you set me up somewhere with a desk?” Omera asked Corin. “I can submit the paperwork within the hour. You do have wi-fi here?”

“Sure,” Corin said, sounding a little uncertain as Din asked,

“Paperwork?”

Omera looked from Din to Corin back to Din.

“Agent Djarin, I assumed you were petitioning to foster. Is that not correct?”

“Uh,” was the only articulate thing that came out of Din’s mouth. He looked over at Corin whose stunned expression morphed slowly into a smile and as that smile grew, so did shrink Din’s ability to deny him anything.

“We can keep him?” Corin asked.

“This is…this is a big responsibility,” Din said.

“We will continue to look for family,” said Omera, but she and Din shared a look that he understood completely. If the child was in a safe home and family not immediately apparent, CPS had neither the time nor the inclination to sink resources into chasing down a blood relative who may not even want him. Din had spent enough time sifting through Fennec Shand’s life to know that no relatives were going to be easily found.

“A moment?” Din asked of Omera and he stepped back towards the door with Corin.

“Din,” Corin said, “we should do this.”

“Most people have a bit of time to adjust to the idea before having a baby,” Din said. “What about…what about…?”

“We are in a position to be a force for good in this child’s life,” Corin said. “Where would you be if there hadn’t been someone willing to-”

“Don’t,” Din cut him off shortly. “Do not invoke my family in this decision. That situation was entirely different.”

“Was it?” Corin asked, but his shoulders slumped and he pulled back from his argument.

Din wished he wasn’t so tired. He did not feel he was fit to make any kind of decision, let alone something of this magnitude.

“You know what will happen if she takes him away,” Corin said.

“He’s an infant. There are always people who want babies; it’s the big kids who have the most trouble finding-”

“He’s an infant to an imperial mother who OD’ed and an unknown father,” Corin interrupted with bitterness. “Not exactly the most sought after, no matter what the New Republic propaganda tries to tell us.”

“We can’t save everyone,” Din said. “ _¡Mierda!_ I couldn’t even save his mother!” [Shit]

Corin put a hand on the baby’s head. Matias chose that moment to give a great big yawn, blinking slowly. Corin raised his hands to Din’s face, sweeping his fingers across his cheeks and coming to a rest in his hair behind his ears. He gently pulled Din towards him and rubbed his nose with Din’s and then kissed him. He stepped back.

“Din, we should do this. It’s the right thing to do. How many times do we get an opportunity to do something right, something good, something that might even partially make up for all the shit of the war? Was it good luck or bad that had you be the one to find this child? I say it was good. For him, for you, for us.”

Din huffed a sigh. He turned away and then back again, starting and stopping an argument a few times before he said,

“My work is so irregular, sometimes I don’t get home until late.”

“I know,” Corin said.

“And sometimes I can’t commit my time, things come up at work that I have to deal with.”

“I do live with you,” Corin said, amused. “So I am familiar with your erratic schedule.”

Din huffed again. He looked down at the baby who seemed completely content and utterly oblivious to Din’s turmoil. When Din thought of what might have happened if he and Cara had not found Fennec when they did, if those delinquent teenagers had fired their weapons into Fennec’s unit without them there, he felt cold all over. Corin was right; this baby was lucky to be alive. How could he turn away from that now?

“Okay,” he said. “Okay, let’s do it.” 


	5. Now: Corin at Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin grapples with the differences between this home and his home - including Din.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corin's POV

The house was quiet and a little cool. Corin stood for a moment in the main living area, unsure what to do, while Din bustled about, opening a few windows and turning on some lights.

“Listen, you should get some rest, doc’s orders. I’m just going to run out and get some groceries as we have nothing edible,” Din said.

Corin felt a strange thrum of anxiety at the thought of Din leaving him alone. He thought he managed to hide it, but apparently not, as Din came closer and squeezed his arm.

“I won’t be long. You should lie down. Here-” He went into another room and quickly returned with a small, thin, rectangular black object. “I charged your phone last night.”

Corin took the object doubtfully. As he lifted it, the flat surface lit up with a picture that looked like two hands in fists with thumbs pointing up. Din’s hands, he realized. He was so distracted by this he nearly missed Din’s instructions.

“Just hold it up to see your face and then swipe up,” he said, demonstrating. The picture disappeared to be replaced by four columns of squares with icons in them. “That’s the phone, there, if you need me,” Din said, pointing.

“A comm device?” Corin asked, to clarify.

Din hesitated a moment and then, sounding anything but sure, said,“Yes.”

He puttered about gathering up some things while Corin remained entranced by the device, wondering how he could get back to the picture of the hands.

“You’ll be okay?” Din asked, with his hand on the door.

“Sure, of course,” Corin said, looking over to him but keeping his line of sight no higher than Din’s chest.

“Okay,” Din said, but he still didn’t leave. “Okay, I won’t be long. Get some rest.” He hovered with the door open and then finally left, pulling it closed behind him.

Corin was alone in the house. He put down the comm device and wandered from room to room, trying to find something that would explain where he was or how he got here. Or even something that seemed familiar and like home.

There was a galley, bigger than on the ship, with a full oven and stove and a large conservator. It spilled out to an area with a large table and four chairs, which it turn fed into the living area with a couch and a comfortable looking chair and footstool. A screen was attached to the wall, maybe some kind of holoprojector. There was a bookcase, so filled with books that they were double stacked. Corin had never seen so many paper, bound books before. They must have cost a fortune.

He found a room with a dresser and a bed, but it was unmade and the room felt unused. There was one refresher with a bathtub and a room with two large machines that he figured out were for washing clothes.

Then there was a larger bedroom with a bed made up neatly and flanked by two small tables. Two doors in the room led to a smaller refresher with a shower and a small room filled with clothes.

This held his attention for some time even though none of the clothes looked familiar. There were so many of them! But then he realized what had truly caught his attention was the smell. It smelled like home in this small space. Not the metal and oil smell of the Razor Crest, but the smell of their room whenever they stayed in one place for awhile. Either with the defectors at the castle or at covert with the other Mandalorians.

Corin stepped back into the room and eyed the bed. He was tired and Din’s suggestion to get some rest was appealing. He hadn’t found out anything to help him with his mystery, but he needed more energy to truly tackle the problem. He lay down on his side facing the door. He wondered if maybe he should go retrieve the comm device he’d left in the other room but was asleep before he finished the thought.

<><><><>

When Corin woke up it was darker in the room. He felt cosily warm and realized someone, Din presumably, had draped a blanket over him. He lay for a moment, listening, and discovered that the house wasn’t as quiet as before. He could hear Din’s voice and the sound of him moving around in the galley.

Corin sat up and stretched a little, feeling slightly irritated that he still felt tired. He couldn’t remember ever being so sick that he felt like this. He stood and went to see what Din was doing.

“No, it’ll take some more time, I think,” Din said.

Corin peered into the galley but could only see Din, who was leaning with his back against the counter, one arm wrapped around himself and the other holding a comm device.

“Yeah, I hear you,” he said. “They wouldn’t have let him come home if-” Din stopped abruptly on noticing Corin. “Hey you’re awake…Cara…no, I have to…thanks, okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Din put the device down on the counter.

“Who were you talking to?” asked Corin.

“That was my partner, Cara,” Din said. “She was asking about you.”

“Cara Dune?” Corin asked. “You’re partners?”

“Yeah,” Din said sounding pleased. “You remember Cara?” He turned to stir something on the stove. “We’re work partners,” he added.

“You hunt together?”

“Ah, well, I’m not sure I’d call it hunting. That’s got a very…predatory sound to it,” Din said. “We work for the FBI.”

Corin sighed. “I don’t know what that is,” he said, frustrated.

“Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Din said. “We’re in the missing persons division.”

“When people are missing you find them?” Corin asked. That sounded close to bounty hunting.

“Yes, that’s what we do,” Din said. “Are you hungry? I made soup. It’s nothing fancy, but they said you shouldn’t overwhelm your system.”

“That sounds great,” Corin said, with heartfelt meaning. He was starving.

“Go sit, I’ll bring it to you,” Din said, gesturing towards the table.

They sat together at the table and for awhile Corin focused only on eating the soup with some fresh bread and butter. Din poured him a glass of water.

“Good to see you have your appetite back,” Din said.

Corin frowned. Was Din teasing him? The other man seemed to have a relaxed posture and he’d sounded amused. Maybe he was eating too fast. It was a bad habit he’d picked up in the army. It occurred to him with a jolt that this was the first time he and Din had eaten a meal together.

“So,” Din said, “I was thinking about your comments yesterday about…about armour and…and helmets.”

Din picked up his comm device and did a few taps, swipes and clicks with his thumbs. Then he held the device out to Corin. Corin took it to see a picture of two men dressed in camouflage with black vests and green helmets. They were each holding a weapon, something similar to an E-11 blaster rifle.

“Is that you?” Corin asked.

“No,” Din said. He chuckled a little. “We didn’t take any photos of my squad during the war. But my gear was very much like what you see there. Is that what you meant?”

“No,” Corin said. He handed Din back his device. He thought a moment about how to describe Mandalorian armour to someone who’d never seen it before. “Do you have some paper and a pencil?” he asked.

Din retrieved the requested articles and filled up Corin’s bowl again. Moving to a section of the table away from the dishes, Corin roughly sketched a figure and then added the pieces of armour: pauldrons, cuisses, vambraces, cuirass, and finally the helmet. Looking it over carefully Corin handed it to Din.

“I’m not that great an artist but that’s the general look,” he said.

He went back to focusing on his soup.

Din examined the paper for a moment.

“This helmet, it covers the face?” he asked. “The whole face, even the eyes?”

Corin nodded.

“You were shocked to see me,” Din said. “You were expecting that I’d have this on?”

“Din always-”

“You mean me,” Din cut in.

“-wears the helmet,” Corin continued. “For a Mandalorian to have his helmet removed and his face seen is to break the creed. He would be an outcast. It’s a really big deal. So, yeah, I was expecting to see it.”

“So in your memories, you’ve never seen my face?” Din asked, sounding troubled.

“No, never,” Corin said.

Din placed the paper on the table and rested his right hand on it. His other hand lifted to run through his hair and pull on his neck. Corin could tell by the slightly trembling of Din’s fingers on the page against the table that he was upset. It was funny, he’d never noticed before how much he could discern from watching Din’s hands.

“You said that we were…” Din started and then stopped with a sigh. “You said that you thought we were friends. Is that because…because…I mean, why were you uncertain? Is it because you’ve never seen me?”

“No, that’s not it at all,” Corin said in a rush to explain. “I’ve never needed to see Din’s face to know who he is. I’ve just always, I guess…it’s just that I don’t like to define what it is. I…I don’t want to presume anything about…about how he feels.”

“You mean, you don’t need to see _me_ to know who _I_ am. You don’t want to presume how _I_ feel,” Din corrected gently. “Right?”

“Yes,” Corin said. “Sorry, I…sorry.”

“So you don’t remember us being in a relationship? Being married?”

“I don’t remember the marriage part,” Corin admitted.

“What part do you remember?” Din asked.

Corin wondered how he could possibly sum up his time with Din.

“I remember Din- I mean you- saved my life - more than once. He- you- took care of me when I was hurt. You trusted me with your son. You protected me and gifted me with my own armour. You told me I belonged with you. You comforted me, held me, touched me, told me you loved me. I remember all of that. Very clearly.”

Din reached out to take Corin’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Sounds like you remember all the important things,” he said. He leaned back in his chair considering. Corin kept his eyes fixed on the empty soup bowl. “If you’ve never seen my face then how do we kiss? Do you remember us kissing?”

“We’ve kissed,” Corin said with a little smile. “Mandalorians have a way of kissing even with the helmet on.”

“Will you show me?” Din asked when Corin didn’t elaborate.

“Uh, sure,” Corin said. He moved his chair to angle it towards Din’s and reached out to put his hand on the back of Din’s neck. Leaning forward, he gently pulled Din until their foreheads were touching, carefully ensuring their noses didn’t touch. Corin kept his eyes closed. When Din moved a little Corin almost pulled back, but Din merely put his hand on Corin’s neck to mirror him.

Taking a breath Corin gently pulled away, Din’s hand falling from his neck as he did so.

“That was nice,” Din said. There was an awkward moment of silence. “Look, I’ll clean up here. Why don’t you go take a shower and go back to bed. I’m sure that will help you feel better.”

Corin had his doubts but to his surprise he did feel better after showering and shaving. His reflection in the fogged up mirror didn’t seem as much a horror as this morning. But with the better feeling came a tumult of conflicting thoughts as he lay in the bed in the dark.

There seemed to be no possibility that the Din in this house was the Din that Corin knew and loved. This Din’s Corin had made vows with him. They had a relationship that was known and understood to be committed - known to themselves and to others. _More than yesterday, less than tomorrow._ That was more certainty than Corin was used to having with his Din. He’d always assumed that some day bad luck would exert its influence and separate Corin from his new family. Sure Din said he loved Corin now, but that was no guarantee he would forever.

Not to mention, the Din in this house did not follow the Mandalorian creed, despite having claimed to be Mandalorian by virtue of where he was born. No creed, no armour, no helmet. In fact, he’d been upset at the idea that Corin had never seen him fully.

So if there were two distinct Dins then would it be so bad if Corin looked at him? It wouldn’t be breaking any kind of creed if this Din didn’t believe in it, would it? However, this Din was so much like the other one, helmet notwithstanding, then it was probable that he shared the same face. What would that mean if Corin was ever able to reunite with the armoured Din and knew his face? Wasn’t that cheating in some way?

And speaking of cheating, if there were two distinct Dins then wasn’t Corin somehow disrespecting his relationship by continuing as if he had a relationship with this Din? Very soon the man was going to be joining Corin in this bed and what would that mean to the other Din?

Corin wondered if the Corin who should be here in this bed had somehow swapped with him. He wasn’t sure if he felt comforted or unsettled by the idea that if so at least his Din was not left alone. If he figured out a way back to his Din, would that leave the one here alone? Alarmingly, that was just as unsettling.

Despite his best attempts to forget, Corin remembered clearly the face he’d seen upon waking at the med center. He’d seen the other man’s worry so obviously displayed and how it had vanished with an expression of joy and relief. He couldn’t do anything to hurt that man. It would be like hurting Din and that was absolutely unfathomable.

Corin did eventually fall asleep, his jumble of thoughts having reached no clear conclusion. He was vaguely aware of Din coming to bed and in his sleepy haze, he rolled over to snuggle against Din’s side. Din pulled him closer and ran gentle fingers through his hair.

“I’m so glad you’re home, _mi corazón_ ,” Din said softly.

“I don’t know what to do,” Corin mumbled.

“We’ll figure it out. Together.”


	6. Before: Anniversary of the Bombing of Alderaan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din invites Cara home for a BBQ to take her mind off the anniversary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din's POV - approximately four months after decision to foster Matias

Din had hoped the day might bring them some success in their case to offset Cara’s inevitable bad mood. He didn’t begrudge her the sentiment. It was a hard day for a lot of people. You didn’t have to be from Alderaan to mourn, but the loss was more keenly felt by some than others. The decision to obliterate an entire city was supposed to have demonstrated the empire’s might and its ability to act with cold indifference to collateral damage. Instead, the bombing of Alderaan inspired the rebellion to redouble its efforts and was likely the only thing that could have united the resistance factions into enough of a cohesive force to succeed in overthrowing the emperor.

That didn’t mean a hill of beans to Cara. To Cara, it was the anniversary of the day she lost her family, her friends, and her place in the world. She’d told Din once that even her memories were tainted by the loss because she could never return to her childhood home so even thinking about it brought pain.

Which is why Din hoped a break in their case might distract Cara from dwelling too much on the date and all of its baggage. His hopes were dashed as they encountered dead end after dead end. By the time they got back to the office in the late afternoon Cara had gone from impatient to irritable to silent. Din was worried. It didn’t help that the anniversary this year fell on a Friday. He didn’t want Cara to sink into misery for the entire weekend.

“Hey,” he said, as Cara shut down her computer and locked her desk. “Corin invited Zev’sonya and Mose over for a BBQ tonight. Why don’t you come by and join us?”

Cara looked at him with an expression that said she knew what he was doing. He wasn’t sure if she was going to tell him to piss off or punch him.

“I’m pretty sure Mose will be in charge of the grill, and you know his pork ribs are - how did you put it?”

For a second he thought maybe she wouldn’t even respond.

“To die for, I think is the term you’re looking for,” she said finally, with only a touch of annoyance.

“Orgasmic, that’s the word you used,” Din said. He was pleased to see the tiniest twitch of a smile. “Come on. You gotta eat.”

“Fine, if it will get you to shut up about it,” Cara said. “But there had better be beer and it better not be that fruity Endorian microbrew shit you had me try last time.”

“The Endorian microbrew has been forever banned from the house,” Din said. “Only the best Nevarran IPA for you, I promise.”

It wasn’t until he opened the gate to the backyard with Cara at his heels and saw the assembled group that Din questioned the wisdom of his plan. He should have just offered to take her to a pub and made sure she got home safely. Corin had brought some colleagues from work, and with the exception of Zev and Mose, they were all ex-imperial.

Din was momentarily distracted by the sight of Mati who was being bounced on Leave-it’s thighs. The baby was giggling at the man’s crazy faces, bending his knees and straightening to be bounced again. But then he saw Din approaching and let out a string of babbled glee.

“Hello, _hombrecito_ ,” Din said, scooping him by the armpits from Leave-it’s grasp. “Come say hello to Auntie Cara.”

Matias giggled and reached out to grab Din’s nose.

“You get cuter every time I see you,” Cara said, tugging on one of the baby’s feet. “And you keep bopping your papa like that, he needs to be taken down a notch now and then.”

“Be careful of her evil influence,” Din said kissing Mati’s cheek. To Cara he said, “Grab a seat, I’ll get you that beer.”

Din kept Mati in his arms as he entered the house to find Corin in the kitchen conferring with Mose about rubs and marinades. Mose was an enormous man, taller than the doorframes and heavy set. But he was a gentle giant and a food expert, not only in preparation, but in finding ways to feed many on a short budget. He and Zev’sonya had worked together for years, far longer than Din had known them.

“Looks like we’re in for a feast,” Din said.

Mose mumbled something about heathen inner core idiots who didn’t know sweet from sour. He gathered up two trays of meat and left for the backyard.

“I’m not from the inner core!” Corin called after him. He gave Din a quick kiss and said, “Seriously, why does everyone think I’m from the inner core?”

“It’s your accent,” said Din and laughed at the bewildered expression on Corin’s face. “Where’s the beer? I brought Cara.”

“There’s a cooler on the back deck,” Corin said.

“And does this guy need food soon?” Din asked as the baby wriggled first almost over Din’s shoulder and then leaned out to reach for Corin. Corin lifted his arms to take him but Din pulled back. “Hey, you’ve had him all day, it’s my turn now.”

“He’s all yours,” Corin said. “There’s his dinner. I’ll get Cara her beer.”

By the time Din had finished feeding Mati, changing his diaper, and getting him into pajamas, Mose was starting to serve the adults outside. Din brought Mati back out and sat on the steps of the deck with the baby in his lap. Corin brought him a beer and sat beside him.

Din noted that Cara was eating and on her second beer, both things which Din took as a win. She didn’t seem to be participating in the conversation, but that was likely a bridge too far given the history of the group. The chatting lagged a bit as everyone tucked in to their dinner; a testament to Mose’s excellent cooking.

Twilight came and Corin turned on some lanterns to give a soft glow to the yard. He replenished everyone’s drink and brought Din a plate of food. Din was reluctant to relinquish the baby, who had snuggled into his chest and was watching the group with sleepy eyes. So he ate with one hand and tried to ignore Corin’s smug expression. Four months ago he never would have believed how much Matias would come to mean to him - to them both. But just because he acknowledged that didn’t mean he had to put up with Corin’s “I told you so.”

For Din, situational awareness was second nature and it didn’t matter that he was in his own backyard surrounded by people he knew. He kept an eye on Cara, but saw no sign that she was about to pick a fight, something he’d have almost expected, given the day and the company. Leave-it had left his seat from before and was now sprawled across Zev’s lap on the outdoor couch. Zev’s tolerance for this showed that their on-again off-again relationship was in the on-again state. Now that the cooking was done, Mose sat on the picnic table bench, his back to the table, and ate quietly. Kiergan and Jana seemed to be having a good natured debate about something to do with field rations. And there was someone Din didn’t know, a small woman with long dark hair, as quiet as Mose, and not even really making eye contact with people. Din nudged Corin with his free hand.

“Who’s that?” he asked quietly.

“Liita,” Corin told him. “She does odd jobs around the castle. Maintenance type stuff. On contract. She was working today so I told her she should come.”

Din took the last bite of his ribs and licked the BBQ sauce from his fingers. _An unknown then._ He’d have to watch her to see how she fit into the dynamics of the group.

Eventually, Mati fell asleep against Din’s chest, his shirt slightly damp with drool. They’d pay for it if he didn’t get him into bed soon, so Din left the yard and quietly entered the house. He didn’t think he’d been gone that long, but when he returned with the baby monitor speaker in his hand, there was a discussion underway between Cara and the new person, Liita.

“…be left alone,” said Liita.

“That’s outrageous,” Cara said flatly.

Din’s sense of impending trouble went from observe and reflect to prepare for danger at her tone.

“What do you think, Din?” asked Zev’sonya and Din didn’t like her mischievous look. “Can everyone who’s missing be found?”

Din tried to get a read from Cara about the gist of the debate but his partner was clearly fuming. Deescalation was needed.

“No one disappears without a trace,” Din said. “Maybe some are harder to find than others, but everyone leaves evidence of some kind.”

“You really think you can find those who truly don’t want to be found?” Liita asked. Din shifted his assessment of her from unknown to hostile.

“Yes,” Din said. “Given enough time, I could.”

Liita’s eyes glittered as she seemed to be assessing him, but then she looked away as though uncomfortable.

“Should all missing people be found?” Zev asked. “Or are some people better off lost?”

“All people deserve to be found,” Din said, “because there’s no way to determine if they’re better off.”

“Some people have good reasons to disappear,” Liita said. “Dangerous reasons. Potentially fatal reasons.”

Cara looked like she was going to retort so Din cut in.

“And some people are missing because those dangers have already struck. But I don’t know which it is until I find them. We can’t protect the missing but we can protect the found.”

“Protect,” Liita scoffed.

Cara opened her mouth and then shut it again. She stood abruptly and walked towards the gate.

“Thanks for the beer, sailor,” she muttered as she passed Din.

Din paused long enough to glare at Zev’sonya who winked at him and then he went after Cara.

“Wait, don’t go,” he said to her on the driveway, reaching out to her shoulder to stop her progress to her car.

“You know, Din, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, I really do, but today of all days I don’t need to be told by some yahoo imperialist that what I do for a living is wrong.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “But don’t let her get to you. It doesn’t matter what she thinks of what we do; we know it’s important. Look, I have more IPA. We can sit at the front and toss the bottle caps in battle formations on the grass.”

“A girl might think you’re trying to get her drunk, Djarin,” Cara said without looking at him.

“I admit it, I am trying to get you drunk,” Din said. “Or at least, drunk enough that you have to crash on our couch and we could have breakfast together tomorrow morning.”

Cara turned back to him. “Your beer is good, but your company sucks.”

“They’re not so bad once you get to know them,” Din said, but he sounded like he knew she wouldn’t be convinced.

Cara shook her head and laughed a little with bitterness. “For the love of stars, why did you have to go and fall in love with a stormtrooper?”

Din tensed.

“I didn’t,” he said stiffly. “I fell in love with a man, as flawed and imperfect as the rest of us. I don’t care what side of the war he was on.”

Cara’s lips pressed together and her face went red with fury. She leaned in closer to Din and jabbed at him with a finger. “You should care. We fought for freedom and they fought for tyranny!” She turned and took a few steps away but then stopped again.

“Cara,” he said and sighed. “This isn’t a good time for an argument about this.”

“If you’d met during the war you would have killed him without a second thought,” Cara said viciously. “You wouldn’t even remember who he was.”

“That’s true,” Din said. “And I have nightmares about doing that very thing. But I’m not going to condemn a man because he was recruited into the imperial military machine. If I’d been raised by his family I would have fought for the empire as well.”

“But you were raised by people who recognized the empire for the evil it was,” Cara said. “And that is what shaped you as a man.”

“All I can say is that it’s easy to hate the squad and much harder to hate the soldier,” Din said. “But Cara, don’t go. I don’t want you to be alone right now. Not when you’re hurting and angry.”

Cara looked down at her shoes. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Her fingers reached up to fiddle with the pendant on her necklace.

“What did they all die for, Din?” she asked looking back up at him.

“I…I don’t have an answer for that,” he admitted.

She sighed. “I’m going home. You should go back to your…guests.”

“You sure I can’t tempt you with breakfast?” he asked.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Just so you know I’m not passed out in an alley somewhere.”

She stepped towards him and gave him a hug.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” he said.

She offered a small smile. “Who knew that being a papa would turn you into such a worrywart,” she said.

He scoffed. “I was always a worrywart, Dune, I just used to hide it better.”

Din waited until her car had disappeared before returning to the backyard. The chatter had moved on to lighter topics and seemed to be focused on something work related, so Din busied himself collecting empty beer bottles and dishes. Corin came into the kitchen as Din loaded the dishwasher.

“Is Cara okay?” he asked. “She seemed tense.”

“Bad day for her,” Din said and added, “Bombing of Alderaan.”

Understanding dawned on Corin’s expression and he looked pained. “Shit, I totally forgot the date. I should apologize. I should have intervened when Liita started in on-”

“Did you drop the bomb?” Din asked.

“No,” Corin said. “Of course not! I was infantry, not air command.”

“There’s nothing you can say to make it better, _mi corazón_ ,” Din said.

Corin still had a guilty hunch to his shoulders so Din pulled him into a hug. He wondered if they would ever be truly free of the war and sighed when he realized probably not.


	7. Now: Appointment with Peli

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corin goes to therapy with Peli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corin's POV

Corin wasn’t sure what to make of Peli Motto. He was pretty sure he’d only understood a portion of what she’d said to him the day before and he was feeling anxious about saying something completely out of the realm of normal for this place. So when he saw that Din was going to stay in the waiting room of the office and leave Corin alone with Peli, Corin panicked a bit.

“Can…can Din come in with us?” he asked.

“If that’s what you want,” Peli said. “And he agrees to keep his mouth shut.”

“Yes,” Corin said, relieved as Din stood up from the chair he’d barely sat down in.

“You sure?” Din asked, as he came closer.

“Yes,” Corin said. “I’m sure.”

They went into an office with a desk, a sofa, and some chairs that looked much more comfortable than the ones in the waiting room. Corin sat on the sofa while Din took a chair. Corin noticed that Din’s posture indicated he was uneasy but Corin wasn’t sure if it was the setting or Peli that made him so stiff. Or perhaps it was Corin himself.

Peli sat in another chair. She had no file or notes this time.

“So, how we doing today?”

“Fine,” Corin said, which was not totally true. Despite the rest yesterday and a full night’s sleep, he still felt exhausted. Not to mention, he was still in this strange place instead of where he should be. But these were minor things, in Corin’s mind. Things that he could deal with and he should deal with. No one else needed to bother.

“Can I ask you a question?” Peli asked, when Corin didn’t add any more. She didn’t wait for Corin to agree before asking, “Why is it you have no trouble looking at me, but you avoid looking at Din?”

“Din’s a Mandalorian,” Corin said. “He’s not supposed to show his face to anyone.”

“Huh,” Peli said. “I didn’t know it was so shameful to be from Mandalore.”

“Not shameful,” Corin said. “It’s part of their creed to wear armour and cover their faces. This is the way.”

“But Din isn’t covering his face,” Peli pointed out. “If it’s his creed, shouldn’t it be him taking care of it?”

“I don’t know why he’s not,” Corin admitted after a moment. “But just in case, I don’t think it’s respectful for me to see him.”

Corin risked a glance to his side to see that Din was holding onto the chair’s armrests with a solid grip. Perhaps he noticed Corin’s look because he deliberately let go of the armrests and folded his hands in his lap.

“Just in case he puts the armour back on?” Peli asked.

“Just in case I make it home again,” Corin said, without thinking. He suddenly realized that having Din in the room might make things more difficult. However, having been so certain he wanted Din there, he couldn’t ask him to leave now. He kept his eyes on Peli. To his surprise she wasn’t looking at him like she thought he was a lunatic. She had a more thoughtful expression as if she was trying to understand.

“So you’re still remembering things a bit differently?” she asked.

“My memories are real,” Corin said firmly. “As real as the memory of the drive over here this morning.”

“You know,” Peli said, “the brain has a remarkable ability to adjust itself to try to make sense of our world. And when we encounter a situation that throws a wrench into our gears,the brain will find a way around it. You must have an explanation for why your memories - which of course are real to you - why they are different from, say, Din’s. Or, if not an explanation, then a theory.”

“Are you going to tell me it’s brain chemistry again?” Corin asked.

“I probably have a different theory than you do,” Peli said with a little smile. “But I was asking you to tell me yours.”

 _They’ll think I’m crazy,_ Corin thought. _But then, was it any crazier than a baby having the ability to heal a fatal gut shot?_ And Din promised he wouldn’t be angry. He hoped this Din’s promises were as solid as the other one’s.

“I think, maybe, there are multiple…multiple universes and somehow I’ve stepped out of mine, and into yours,” Corin said, haltingly.

“How did you get here?” Peli asked.

“I don’t know,” Corin admitted.

“Where is the Corin that was here?” Peli asked.

Corin sighed. “I don’t know.” He glanced over at Din again to see that Din was sitting very still, barely breathing, as though the man was trying to be part of the furniture. As though it could be forgotten that he was in the room at all.

“How are you going to get back?” Peli asked.

“I don’t know!” snapped Corin. He sighed again. “I just know I have to get back there.”

“It feels safer there than here?”

Corin was not expecting that question. “No - not exactly safer,” he said. “In fact it’s quite dangerous. But we have to protect the child from Gideon. He’s relentless and ruthless and he’s almost killed us, a few times. We can’t let him get the child.”

 _Maybe,_ Corin thought, _if I convince them, they will help me find a way._

“It’s not for me,” he went on, “I’m nobody. I don’t matter. I’m just an ex-stormtrooper. But the child. He’s important. If anything happened to him-” Just the thought made Corin stop. He cleared his throat and took a couple of deep breaths. “It would kill Din to lose the child.”

Another sideways look at Din and Corin saw that his hands were now in fists but he had turned away slightly, as though he didn’t want to see.

“And if it happened because of me? Or because I wasn’t there to stop it? Din would finally have a reason,” Corin said. “Bad luck would catch up.”

“A reason to what?” asked Peli looking perplexed.

Corin hesitated but there was really nothing to do but answer the question.

“To drop me somewhere and leave me behind,” Corin said. “And he’d be right to do it.”

Din shifted as though restless and Corin saw Peli hold up a finger to him as though to stop him from interjecting something.

“It sure sounds to me like there’s a lot to fear in that other place,” said Peli.

“Yeah, well, there is,” Corin said. “But…but it isn’t all like that. There are some really nice parts like…like being part of a family. Din being my own good luck charm. And I’ve been learning Mando’a, trying to prove I can…I can be _mandokarla_.”

“You speak Mando’a?” Peli asked showing surprise for the first time.

“Only a little,” Corin said. “Things like please - _gedet’ye_ \- and thank you - _vor entye_ \- and some terms of endearment like _ner kar’ta_ and _cyar’ika_ And a few phrases like: _Aliit ori’shya tal’din_ and _ni kar’tayl gar darasuum_.”

“Nair karohta? What does that mean?” Peli asked.

“My heart,” Corin said looking down at his shoes. “ _Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum_ means I love you.”

“ _Te quiero, mi corazón_ ,” Din said softly, speaking for the first time. Peli glared at him. “Sorry, I…I’ll shut up now.”

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” said Peli standing up and moving to her desk to rummage in a drawer. She pulled out a notebook and came back to sit down. She handed Corin the notebook. “You are going to make some notes about things that are different for you.”

Corin looked skeptical. “That’s a…that’s a pretty long list.”

“It doesn’t have to be everything, just things that you notice, jot them down in the book. We,” she said with emphasis looking at Din, “we are going to do everything we can to make sure you’re okay functioning here, even where it feels different, just in case we can’t get you back there. Right?”

“Of course,” Din said quickly.

Peli stood up again and so did Din, so Corin got to his feet.

“Until next week,” Peli said. “And get some rest. You look like a stiff wind would knock you over.”

Corin was so disgruntled at being told to rest again, that he almost left the waiting area without Din. Upon realizing Din was still talking to the receptionist, he hesitated. He watched what Din was doing carefully. As they made their way into the corridor and back to the street where the car was parked, Corin wondered.

“Did you have to pay for that?” he asked finally.

“Yes,” Din said. “But our insurance will cover some of the cost.”

They got into the car. Corin frowned as he fiddled with his seatbelt.

“Is it expensive?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Din said as he started the car.

“But-”

“It’s your health, Corin, it’s worth it,” Din said a bit sharply.

 _Stand down, soldier_ , Corin told himself. He twisted the ring on his finger. It still felt foreign to him. Now that he had some time to think without Peli peppering him with questions, Corin pondered all that he’d said in the doctor’s office. He wished he hadn’t insisted that Din be in the room. He could tell by the way Din’s hands gripped the steering controls that he was tense. He was pretty sure he’d done that thing where he’d spoken of Din like he was somebody else. But he was somebody else…wasn’t he?

“What did you say, at the end there?”

Din took so long to answer Corin wondered if maybe he hadn’t asked the question out loud.

“ _Te quiero, mi corazón_ ,” Din said. “Spanish. It means ‘I love you, my heart’.”

Corin turned that over in his head a few times.

“Spanish is my first language,” Din said. “And so I’ve taught you a few things. Please - _por favor_ \- and thank you - _gracias_. And some terms of endearment.” Din’s voice got a little gruff and he cleared his throat.

 _Just like the Mando’a_ , Corin thought.

“I’m sorry,” Corin said.

“For what?” Din asked carefully.

“You’re upset. I’ve upset you,” Corin said.

“I’m not…how can you even tell if I’m upset or not?” asked Din.

Corin gestured towards him. “Your hands, mostly, and the way you carry your body. If you’re stiff or relaxed. The way you move. The tone of your voice. I can tell a lot about how you feel.” He looked down at his lap and twisted the ring again. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Din took a deep breath while he digested this.

“I’m not upset,” he said finally. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

Corin appreciated the effort and he knew it was only because Din cared that the effort was made. But he also knew that Din was lying to him.


	8. Before: Decision to Adopt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an important milestone Din reflects on life with Mati

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din's POV

Din always felt extra pressure on those cases where children were involved in some way. This stress increased exponentially if the missing person was a child. This case, in particular, seemed to be heading to an unhappy ending. The child was a teen, bullied at school and online, who had expressed suicidal ideations and run away from home. The bullies had certainly threatened violence and it seemed unlikely that they would find the boy before some measure of harm had been inflicted. But some days the stars were smiling and Cara and Din were able to return the boy to his parents alive and physically unharmed. What happened next to heal the emotional trauma was out of Din’s hands.

Still, a happy outcome, especially an unexpected one, was worth a little overtime. It was quite late when Din got home so he was surprised to find his family still on the couch as he quietly entered the house. The TV was on, but the sound so low as to be almost muted. Corin lay stretched out on the couch with Mati sprawled across his chest. They were both sound asleep.

Din leaned against the doorframe to look at them for a minute. Mati had lately been going through a rough patch of behaviour, which the experts (otherwise known as colleagues who were mothers) Din consulted assured was perfectly normal, if difficult to live with. It was obvious that bedtime had been hard fought this evening by Corin’s level of dishevelment and Mati’s blotchy face. Not to mention it was very unlike Corin to play mattress when Mati had a perfectly good crib in which to sleep.

Likely Mati was out of sorts by the visit from Paz and Raga that had just ended. Din’s brother’s presence had hit the household with the force of a sonic boom. It was no wonder that Mati’s schedule had been in an upheaval. Now that their guests were gone, hopefully things would settle back to normal.

Din felt a little guilty for getting home so late and leaving Corin to handle this all on his own. Not that Corin would ever complain; he’d be more likely to find some way that it was his fault Mati wouldn’t sleep. If Din knew anything about his spouse it was that he’d been conditioned to feel like he never quite measured up. Din did everything he could to counter this but knew he was fighting a lifetime of paternal disapproval. 

Din couldn’t help a sudden urge to scoop the both of them into his arms and protect them from any and all who might try to hurt them. He knew this was mostly the adrenaline of his case that he hadn’t quite worked out of his system. But it was also that, unnoticed in the wake of Paz’s visit and the caseload, they’d recently passed a significant milestone. It had been a year since Din had brought Matias home.

It was a strange feeling to find that a whole year had passed when the time seemed to move both incredibly quickly and immeasurably slowly. The year had been punctuated with regular check ins from Omera. At first these were frequent and thorough but over time had spread out and become more of a quick catch up. As expected, they had been unable to find any blood relatives. Omera knew to spend her time on those that needed her intervention and not waste it on children who were well cared for and loved. 

And Din loved Mati with all his heart. 

Din had used Omera’s contact as a reminder to monitor the progress of the Arvala PD with Fennec’s case. Not that there had been much headway over the year. They had determined that Fennec had not administered the drugs herself and even identified a partial print to a potential killer, or accomplice, or dealer, but it led to a dead end. If not for Din’s continued phone calls for status, the file would have been shuffled to cold cases.

It was frustrating to Din that the case remained open. For one thing, it felt like a loose end to his own case. He had found Fennec, but he hadn’t really found out what happened to her. More importantly though, he knew there would come a day when he’d have to look Mati in the eyes and explain how his mother had died. He wanted to be able to honestly tell Mati that he’d done everything possible to find justice for Fennec even if Mati couldn’t possibly remember her.

Din knew better than most that even the most loving family cannot wash away all hurts.

Din gave himself a little shake and moved into the room. It was far too late and he was too exhausted for anything besides getting everyone properly to bed. He crouched down and laid a hand on Corin’s where it was resting on Mati’s back. Even though he was gentle, Corin startled awake with a jerk blinking at Din with confusion.

“Hey love, sorry I’m so late,” Din said softly. “Rough night?”

Corin took stock of the sleeping baby, the muted TV, and Din before answering.

“It was a bit rough, yeah.”

It must have been worse than Din thought if Corin was admitting even this. He carefully extracted Mati from Corin’s hold and drew him to his chest as he stood.

“I’ll put him down now that you’ve done all the hard work,” he said.

Corin yawned widely as he sat up and swung his legs to the floor. “How did your case go?” he asked.

Din knew that despite his best efforts, he wasn’t totally effective at keeping his work in the office. He’d probably been a bear to deal with for most of the week.

“We found him - safe,” he said. “Which was such a relief you have no idea.”

Corin gave him a lazy smile and his eyes dropped down to the sleeping child in Din’s arms. “I might have an idea,” he said. “Good job.”

With that, Corin dug around the couch cushions to find the remote and turned off the TV. As Din made his way to Mati’s room, Corin turned off the lights and checked the doors were locked, even though Din always locked the door behind him when he came in.

Din laid Mati down in the crib, checked that his diaper was still dry, and then spent a moment just looking down at the baby’s relaxed face. No matter the chaos he was capable of when awake, when Matias slept he exuded calm. It was a kind of peace that Din envied.

By the time Din got to his own room, Corin was already in bed snoring softly. Din made short work of getting there himself.

<><><><>

The first cracks of orange and golden sunlight were visible through the slight part in the curtains when Din gasped awake. His heart pounded and he felt like he couldn’t get enough air. He sat up quickly and felt lightheaded so he dropped his legs to the floor and held his head in his hands hunched over. The grip of the nightmare was slow to retreat, leaving him feeling like he needed to run away, to escape, to do something - anything instead of the paralysis of fear. Abruptly he stood to go to the washroom and splash some water on his face. His hands trembled.

The digital LED of his alarm clock told him he had at least an hour left to sleep, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to try. He went quietly down the hall to check on Mati, who was just as peaceful as he’d been when Din put him down the night before. Din went back to bed and lay on his back staring at the ceiling.

Corin rolled over and pressed his temple against Din’s shoulder. “You okay?” he asked sleepily.

Din shifted a little to bring Corin closer so his cheek was on Din’s chest and Din could rub up and down his back with slow, sweeping strokes. “I’m okay,” he confirmed. “Just a bad dream.”

Corin’s arms around Din tightened a little. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Din said. “I don’t really remember the details.” This was not a complete lie. Din may not remember the nightmare but the feelings it left him with were familiar and would likely last all day. Unease, dread, helplessness. He tried to think of something else to push it all out of his mind.

Din thought of all that the last year with Mati had brought into their lives. He remembered with humour how terrible he’d been at getting the baby carrier into the car on that first day and how awkward those first diaper changes had been. He thought of how many dress shirts he’d had to change before heading to work due to spit up on his shoulder and the teasing he’d gotten from his dry cleaner as a result. He remembered the alarm he’d felt when researching what they needed to acquire for a crib, a stroller, a car seat, a high chair. Everything to do with babies was preceded with so many cautions and warnings about safety that it made even the most innocuous thing - like a blanket in the crib - seem like a dangerous hazard. He remembered Zev threatening to call him Blackhawk if he exhibited any helicopter parent tendencies. As if _he_ was a helicopter parent!

Din took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“You know, maybe I shouldn’t mention this, when you had such a hard day yesterday,” Din said.

“Wasn’t so hard compared to you,” Corin interjected. “At least I knew he was safe, if a little disgruntled.”

Only Corin would describe tantrum hysterics as a little disgruntled.

“But I was thinking that we should...I mean, it’s been a whole year now and we haven’t broken him yet so I wondered if maybe we could talk about the possibility...” Din couldn’t seem to get his tongue around the words.

“The possibility,” Corin prompted.

“Just that maybe we should adopt Mati, you know, formally. Officially.”

Corin pulled away from Din’s hold to push up on his arms that framed Din’s chest so he could look him in the eyes. They were close enough that their noses were nearly touching. 

“Do you mean that?” Corin asked, his eyes searching Din’s face as if for a clue.

“Yes,” Din said. “I mean, can you imagine our lives without him now? I can’t...I can’t even picture it. We love him so much and he should have the security of being in our family.”

“What’s involved?” Corin asked. “I mean, to make it official.”

“I don’t know all the steps,” Din said. “I imagine they will do another check to see if there’s any family, or if they can find his father. But it’s hard to think there’s anyone. We would have heard about him by now. And then there’ll be a judge involved. I can ask Omera what we need to do and how long it will ta-”

Din’s words were cut off by Corin kissing him, leaning into him so Din raised his arms to hold Corin, keeping him close as the kiss broke off. Their noses rubbed together.

“So, you think it’s a good idea?” Din asked and he could feel Corin’s smile against his mouth as they kissed again.

“You do have the best ideas,” Corin said.


	9. Now: Visit from Paz and Raga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like strangers that Corin somehow knows, Paz and Raga show up for a visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corin's POV
> 
> My Paz is somewhat influenced by Jon Favreau's The Chef Show and his movie Chef.

Din left Corin at the house, explaining that he had to go into his office for a short time but would be back later for dinner. He found the comm device and urged Corin to get some rest again.

Corin sat on the couch in the main living area with his comm device in one hand and Peli’s notebook in the other. He spotted the pencil he’d used to draw the Mandalorian armour on the table and went to get it. He opened the notebook to the first page. Blank with lines.

Things that are different , he wrote at the top of the page and paused. He wasn’t sure there were enough pages in the book to cover this.

Din works in an office , he wrote wondering why that was the first thing of so many that came to mind. So many more important things like Din has no armour to protect him and wears no helmet to respect his creed. Din hadn’t even known what beskar was.

Corin put down the pencil and went back to the couch. As his head flopped back on the cushions and his eyes closed he thought about Cara being Din’s work partner instead of him. 

<><><><>

Corin was disoriented when he woke up. Groggily, he sat up on the couch trying to figure out how much time had passed and what had woken him. Then he realized he could hear voices from the other side of the front door. Panicked, he cast about for a weapon but found nothing more dangerous than a heavy, hard cover book. 

_The door is locked_ , he told himself, only halfway comforted by the thought. The voices sounded like they were arguing with each other but he couldn’t make out the words. His anxiety spiked as he saw the lock on the door turning. Whoever it was, they had a key.

The door swung open to reveal a woman with dark curly hair that was half pulled back in a bun but coming loose and a man with even darker curly hair and glasses. He was a very large man who filled the doorway completely he was so tall and wide. Both of them broke off their bickering when they spotted Corin standing there.

“Corin!” the woman said, her stunned expression changing immediately into a smile.

Corin hadn’t quite figured out whether fight or flight was appropriate when the man let out a torrent of angry words, none of which Corin recognized, and punctuated this tirade with,

“I’m going to _kill_ him!”

The woman elbowed the man in the gut with enough force to nearly make him drop the multitude of shopping bags he carried. She then hauled two suitcases through the door and stepped inside to hug Corin warmly. He found himself wrapping his arms around her even as he suddenly recognized who they were.

“Raga? Paz? What...what are you doing here?”

He shouldn’t be so shocked to see them without armour. _If Din had none, why would they?_

“It’s wonderful to find you at home,” Raga said. “We thought you were still in hospital.”

Paz uttered something that Corin was certain was profanity.

“Where is he?” Paz asked.

“Don’t be rude,” Raga said sharply to him. “Get that stuff put away.”

As Paz hefted his shopping bags a little and headed down the hall to the galley, Corin said, “Din’s gone to his office but he said he wouldn’t be long.”

“And how are you feeling?” Raga asked, stepping in front of Corin either in an effort to assess his health, or to force him to look at her.

“Good,” Corin said. “Fine. A little tired.”

A new stream of cursing came from the galley with the sound of cupboards opening and dishes banging.

“Don’t mind him,” Raga said. “You know his bark is worse than his bite.”

Corin would never in his life have described Paz in that manner. In his experience Paz’s bite was equally as effective and frightening as his bark.

Raga turned and started to pull the suitcases in the opposite direction, towards the unused room.

“Here, let me help,” Corin offered following her.

“Nonsense, you should go back to sleep. It’s not like we’ve never been here before,” Raga said.

Corin ran his fingers through his hair and patted it down. How did she know he’d been sleeping? But Raga had made it to the spare room without his assistance and now opened a few drawers in the empty dresser.

“Just need to find the sheets,” she said, moving to the closet and pulling open the bifold doors. “Oh.”

Corin, feeling very much like he was several steps behind both figuratively and literally, turned at her tone. The closet was full. There were wooden pieces that he recognized as likely forming a child’s crib, a chair with straps and a tray, and several translucent crates that looked full of clothes and toys. Raga quickly closed the doors.

“Perhaps the laundry room?” she asked Corin. Without waiting for his answer, she exited the room. Corin hesitated. Part of him wanted to explore the items in the closet even as another part felt like his heart was breaking. He followed Raga.

She was opening the cupboards in the laundry room without success so far.

“Maybe up there?” she pondered, reaching for the cupboard above the washing machine. Corin opened the one above the dryer and jumped when a soft bundle dropped on his head and fell to the floor. He bent down to pick up a stuffed frog that was about the size of the child he knew and missed so much. “Oh here we are,” said Raga, finding the sheets at last in a cabinet that also housed towels.

Corin put the frog back in the high cupboard and closed the door.

“Really, I can take care of this,” Raga said. “You are recuperating.” She gave him a shove. “Go on.”

Corin retreated to the bedroom he shared with Din. He sat on the bed and looked down at his comm device. Paz had sounded really angry. He still sounded angry in fact, as he was making a lot of noise in the galley that Corin could hear even with the door to his room closed. He tried to remember what Din had said about using the comm device.

He held it up and swiped, changing the screen to the one with all the boxes. 

“Din,” he said to the screen. “Are you there?”

Nothing. He couldn’t remember which of the boxes was supposed to activate the comm.

“Contact Din,” he said. Still nothing. He squeezed the device with frustration and then nearly dropped it when it vibrated in his hand. The screen had changed to blank with the question What can I help you with? at the top. “Contact Din,” he said again.

“Would you like to call...Din Djarin?” asked a mechanical female voice.

“Yes,” Corin said.

“I have two numbers for...Din Djarin,” the voice said. “Would you like to call work or mobile?”

Corin hesitated. “Uh, mobile, please,” he said.

“Calling...Din Djarin...mobile,” the voice said. And the screen’s words confirmed this.

Nothing happened for a moment and then a timer appeared, counting up.

“Hello?” Corin said. “Din, are you there?” Nothing seemed to happen except the timer counting up. “Can you hear me?”

The counter stopped and the screen said: Call ended.

Frustrated, Corin pondered asking Raga for help but thought that while it was weird enough he didn’t know where the sheets were kept in his own house, not being able to use a simple device like a comm was too bizarre.

Suddenly the device vibrated in his hand again and a message appeared on the screen.

Text Message Din Djarin: Hey, I’ll call you back. Accept the call then hold it to your ear .

As he digested this, the screen changed again to Incoming Call: Din Djarin. He pressed on the green circle and then tentatively lifted the device to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Can you hear me now?” Din sounded a little amused.

“Yeah,” Corin said, absurdly pleased that it worked.

“Sorry, I should have...I should have showed you in more detail how it worked,” Din said. It sounded like he was walking outside somewhere. “Everything alright? I’m just about to leave-”

“Paz and Raga are here,” Corin interrupted, remembering the reason for making the call. 

To his surprise, Din let loose a string of words he didn’t recognize ending with, “He’s going to _kill_ me.”

“Uh, I’m not entirely sure, but that sounded a lot like what Paz said when he saw me,” Corin said.

Din sighed. “Yeah, well, it’s me he’s angry with, not you. And not without reason,” he added quietly. “Okay, well, I’m just getting in the car now so I should be there in about 25 minutes. Thanks for the heads up.”

“Okay,” Corin said. “See you soon then.”

Feeling irrationally responsible for whatever friction was happening between Din and Paz, Corin lay back on the bed. But he couldn’t doze off. Between the meeting with Peli this morning and all the things he could be writing in her notebook, the discovery of the treasure in the spare room closet, and the imminent confrontation Corin’s thoughts churned. Finally he pulled himself up and got off the bed to go see what their guests were doing.

Corin found Raga setting the table and could see Paz bustling about in the galley, taking out his frustration on some innocent vegetables with a sizeable looking knife. Whatever Paz had cooking on the stove smelled amazing and Corin’s stomach growled.

“You must be feeling better if you’ve got your appetite back,” Raga said. She moved to be in front of him and when he looked down and away she ducked into his field of view. But on the whole she seemed more amused than confused by his evasion. Like he was a puzzle to figure out.

“Din will be here-”

The front door opened and closed.

“-soon,” Corin finished.

Din stepped into the main room a little tentatively.

“Raga,” he said and she went over to give him a hug. Din squeezed her tightly. “I’m so glad you guys are here.” His voice was quiet, but sincere. They pulled back from each other. “Guess I need to face the music, eh?”

There was a loud clatter from the galley as Paz threw something into the sink. He came into the room with visible hostility but fortunately no knife. Then, as if a live action firework with fuse lit, he began to yell at Din. At first, Din took it, almost as though he agreed with the abuse he was getting, but his posture got tighter and tighter and then he snapped and began to yell back. They approached each other slowly, with wide gestures of arms that Raga ducked under to retreat to Corin’s side by the table. Then they were close enough to shove at each other. It was absolutely fascinating for Corin to watch as Din, whom he’d never described as a small man, was utterly dwarfed by Paz’s large size and yet showed no fear or submission. The words they were using were unfamiliar to him (likely Spanish, he guessed) and yet they blended in with Basic, going between the two languages without rhythm or reason as if they weren’t even aware of it. The gist of it, from the words Corin could understand, was Din’s selfish inability to communicate the situation to Paz who’d been worried sick. The situation being Corin’s health as they reached a shocking climax with Paz spreading his arms wide (wide enough he could almost touch the walls on both sides of the room) and grinding out, 

“I thought we were going to find him dead, not taking a nap!”

“You would have preferred that?” snapped Din.

“OF COURSE NOT!” shouted Paz and Corin was pretty sure the windows rattled.

There was a pause while they both breathed heavily. Corin watched with apprehension and then jumped as Raga’s hand reached out and grabbed him forcefully by the chin to turn him to face her.

“Brothers, am I right?” she said with a smirk. Her amusement was so incongruent with the scene that Corin that he choked on an inappropriate burst of laughter. Her smile grew and she chuckled and soon Corin was laughing in earnest, trying and failing to get it under control. Both Paz and Din looked over at them with identical postures of offence at the mirth that was interrupting a perfectly good argument.

Din took some deep breaths and hung his head. “I said I was sorry, there’s not much else I can say, _hermano_ ,” he said quietly.

Paz growled but without the heat of a few minutes prior. He reached out to put Din in a head lock and rapped his knuckles on Din’s head to which Din responded by squirming and somehow twisting his legs in Paz’s to nearly bring the other man down. Corin wasn’t sure the house would survive if they started wrestling.

“Boys!” Raga said sharply. “Let’s eat. This one’s hungry.” She jerked her thumb in Corin’s direction.

<><><><>

Paz had made an enormous amount of food. Corin wondered if maybe they were expecting others to show up, but apparently it was just the four of them at the table. He sat across from Din tonight.

“This is...this is really great,” Corin said as he tried his first bite. “I didn’t know you could cook,” he added to Paz.

There was a pause while all three of them looked at him. He hesitated with his fork halfway to his mouth. Din let out a noise that was like a chuckle combined with a cough.

“You didn’t know I could cook,” Paz repeated. “Are you trying to lighten us up with a joke or did you scramble your-”

“You should know,” interrupted Din, “that a kind of side effect of Corin’s illness is some memory loss.”

“My memory is just fine,” said Corin, annoyed. “I haven’t lost anything.”

“Well,” said Paz, now sounding amused, “you do seem to have lost the knowledge that I am a chef.”

Corin’s jaw dropped and he put his fork down. “That’s uh...” He struggled to imagine this. “That explains why it’s so good,” he finished lamely. He decided to focus on the food. It kept his eyes away from their faces and their expressions as there was some silent communication between them. 

After a few moments talk started up about people that Paz and Raga hadn’t seen for some time and their planned visits while they were in Nevarro. They imparted news from their home, which seemed to be some place that Corin had never heard of called Dagobah. There was a bit of reminiscing. As with the argument, Din and Paz seemed to speak a hybrid of Spanish and Basic without seeming to realize it. All was very genial which made the pre-dinner tension seem even more surreal.

During a lull, Corin got his courage up to join the conversation again.

“So, do you guys fight like that often?”

Raga spluttered with laughter, Paz growled and Din sighed.

“It was worse when we were kids,” Din said.

“He was such an _alborotador_ , I had to keep him in line,” Paz added. “Not to mention, making sure no one else took a bite out of him. What kind of an older brother would I be if I let that happen?” [troublemaker]

“I can fight my own battles, _tonto,_ ” Din said. His exasperated tone told Corin this was a familiar exchange. [fool]

“It’s kind of hard to believe you’re brothers,” Corin said, even though he’d often thought that Din and Paz’s relationship was very much like that of siblings. 

“My birth parents died when I was very young. Too young to really remember them,” Din said. “I was adopted and our family is the only one I’ve known.”

There was an awkward pause. Corin wondered if it was weird for Din to be explaining stuff with which Corin should probably already be familiar.

“You knew us, but didn’t know I was a chef,” Paz said to Corin, turning towards him. “What did you think I was?”

“Heavy infantry,” Corin said, without giving it much thought.

“Huh,” said Paz. He seemed to consider this idea. “Not since the war. I was in the 21 st division Republican marine corps. We trained with an exoskeleton armour and used to joke about it being heavier than a medieval knight’s even with the motor assist. Didn’t use it much in combat though.”

“I was in the Republican air force,” Raga said. “42 nd airborne paratrooper. We travelled light. But we became good scavengers of gear behind enemy lines.”

Paz and Raga turned to Din.

“Navy,” Din said, shortly.

“Navy SEAL,” Paz added, with some pride. “You weren’t some deck swabbing minion, but a special forces sniper. SEAL team 5, responsible for the capture of General Hux _and_ General Tagge, among others who can’t be named under the ARA. And how many confirmed kills?”

Corin’s heart rate spiked. He wondered if this Paz knew that Corin had been an imperial soldier. Of course he did. He must. It was only Corin who didn’t seem to know anything.

“Paz,” Din said with a warning tone.

“I kind of miss it sometimes,” Raga said. “Not the destruction, of course, but the adrenaline.”

“I hear you,” said Paz. “What about you, _alborotador_?”

“Not even a little bit,” said Din. He stood up to clear the table.


	10. Before: Hiring Kuiil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din is compelled to get them legal assistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din's POV

It was the kind of autumn day that couldn’t make up its mind whether to be cold and blustery with a few sprinkles of rain, or warm and sunny. Din had attended mandatory training on the new Law Enforcement Intake Assessment software, even though he’d been using the system for a couple of months already. Then Karga had held a team meeting to congratulate recent successes and assign some new case files. Din and Cara were now revisiting a case that was heading to court soon. The prosecutor was due any minute to brief them on what testimony they might need to provide.

In other words, a totally ordinary day.

Din’s phone rang and he saw it was Omera so he put down the case summary and took the call.

“Hello Omera, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you-”

“Do you have a lawyer?” Omera cut in without even a greeting.

Din paused, momentarily thrown by the question. “No,” he said. “But I wasn’t sure one would be needed for-”

“Get a lawyer, get one now, today if possible,” Omera said, interrupting him again.

Din suddenly felt all the blood drain from his hands and feet as cold swept through him.

“Why?” he asked, although there could only be one reason.

“I can’t give you any details,” Omera said. It sounded like she was walking outside somewhere, the wind making her audio fuzz out a little. “But Matias’s birth father has been found.”

“Who? Where?” Din’s mind was full of questions. “Why didn’t he come forward sooner?”

“I shouldn’t even be giving you this heads up,” Omera said. “Get yourself someone with some experience with custody cases. I have to go.”

“Thanks,” Din said faintly. “Thanks for telling me.”

The call ended. Din looked down at his phone. The day suddenly seemed a lot colder.

Before Cara could ask, Karga approached their desks with a folder.

“Does anyone remember the name of the nightclub where that shooting of the Mayfeld gang was last month? I can’t read this officer’s handwriting for shit.”

“I need a family lawyer,” Din said, as Cara answered Karga.

“Cantina Android.”

“Ah yes,” said Karga. “You know, I remember they used to do a great jazz night once a month that featured some real talent.” Then he frowned at Din. “What do you need a lawyer for? Are you getting a divorce?”

“No!” said Din. “Custody of Mati.”

“Well, I can’t help you with that,” said Karga, chuckling. “Thankfully none of my divorces included children.”

“Isn’t it just a formality?” asked Cara. “Just need a judge to sign off, right?”

“A little more than that,” said Din. “Especially as his birth father’s now involved.”

Karga’s mouth formed a silent ‘Oh’ and he retreated carefully back to his office. Cara sat in the visitor’s chair by Din’s desk.

“What do you know about him?”

“Nothing,” Din said. “I’m not even supposed to know yet. But he must be wanting custody or Omera wouldn’t be urging me to find a lawyer _pronto_.”

“Then let’s find you the best damn family law expert in the district,” Cara said, getting up to go to her computer.

<><><><>

_Best in the district_ , Din thought doubtfully as he looked at the address on his phone and verified it with the building in front of him. It looked more like a house that had been crookedly attached to the side of a larger, box looking building. The wooden front porch listed to one side and needed a complete overhaul, not just a coat of paint. It was hard to imagine that the preeminent family lawyer, Kuiil Ugnaught, had his office in this space. Perhaps he worked out of his home, although that might even be worse.

Din stepped up to the door carefully but the rickety looking wood held strong and he opened the door to a sparse, but clean reception area. There was a dark, wooden staircase on the right and an open door into a book filled room on the left. Straight ahead was a desk where a woman sat typing at tremendous speed at a computer. There was a name plate on the desk that read: Be’elle Urg, Paralegal.

Before Din could open his mouth to ask and without slowing the typing a bit, she said, “Welcome Mr. Djarin. You may go right in.”

“Uh, thanks,” Din said, pivoting to the open door. 

He peered in first before stepping through. There were books crammed into floor to ceiling bookcases, and books on tables, and books on a wide solid-looking desk that also had stacks of files in piles on it. Din almost missed seeing the man at the desk, behind the piles. He was very short and mostly bald, with tufts of gray hair sticking out at odd angles and he had a gray goatee. He was wearing navy trousers that looked to be several sizes too big and held up by red suspenders. His long-sleeved button up shirt was purple.

Din wondered if someone was playing an elaborate prank on him. Yet according to the Law Society of the District of Nevarro, and his contact at the city prosecutor’s office, and Zev (who’d dealt with a number of custody conflicts at the castle), this man was the greatest family lawyer to be found, maybe in the whole of the New Republic. 

“Mr. Ugnaught?” Din asked, getting the man’s attention.

“Ah, Agent Djarin,” he said, with a gravelly voice. “Just Kuiil if you please.”

“It’s Din,” said Din, stepping closer to the desk and holding out his hand. The other man shook it with a firm and confident grip. This close to him, Din took in shrewd eyes that were forming an assessment much the way Din was doing to him. Somehow, Din felt inadequate under his gaze. He turned to find a seat, and adjusted it so he could still see Kuiil around two stacks of files. “Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”

“You’re quite welcome, Din,” said Kuiil. He pulled a pad of paper from a drawer and picked up a pen. “Start at the beginning.”

So Din told the story of finding Fennec and discovering her baby, of bringing Mati home, unearthing his birth record, recognizing the father was a false trail, agreeing to foster, monitoring the Arvala PD’s case, working with Omera, and finally deciding to adopt. He ended with Omera’s call this morning. Throughout the telling, Kuiil took notes and asked a couple of clarifying questions. Even when Din stopped speaking, Kuiil kept writing for several minutes.

“We will get a paternity test, of course,” he said. “And I recommend we confirm the mother at the same time.”

Din had no doubts about Fennec being Mati’s mother as the baby continued to bear a strong resemblance to her. But Kuiil was the expert here so all he said was, “Okay.”

“And we’ll do a full background check on this man. Try to find where he’s been all this time.”

This was along the lines of Din’s own thinking so he only nodded.

“Is there anything in your background or that of your spouse’s that might cause concern?”

“What do you mean by concern?” Din asked.

“Criminal record? History of addiction? Joblessness? Homelessness? Ever been sued? Arrested? Post inflammatory rhetoric on social media? Embarrassing YouTube videos? Accusations of harassment at work?”

“Nothing like that,” Din said. “Well, I was once sued for wrongful arrest, but the case was tossed out of court.”

“And your spouse?” Kuiil prompted.

Din hesitated. “He was a stormtrooper with the Imperial army during the war.”

“Amnestied?” Kuiil asked, picking up his pen to jot some more notes.

“No,” Din said. “He didn’t take amnesty.”

“Hmm, interesting,” Kuiil said without further comment. “And yourself?”

“Republican Navy,” Din said. “Lieutenant Commander. No amnesty for me either.”

Kuiil chuckled a little at the joke. Then he put down his pen and folded his hands on the pad of paper. “You need to be completely honest with me, Din,” he said.

“I have been,” Din said, a little put out.

“Why did you choose to adopt? Why do you want custody of Matias Shand?”

“Because...what do you mean? Is this a trick question?”

“Not at all,” Kuiil said. “In your own words.” He gestured for Din to continue.

“Because we love him,” Din said.

“That’s all?” Kuiil asked when Din said nothing more.

“Isn’t that enough?” Din asked helplessly.

“You love him and therefore...” Kuiil prompted.

“Therefore we think he should stay with us, permanently.” Din could sense Kuiil was still waiting for something else. “Because we want what’s best for him.”

“Ah,” said Kuiil, leaning back in his chair. “There we go.” He tapped a finger on the edge of his desk for a moment. “I will take your case, Din. I’m going to need you to provide a lot of details about your life, and that of your spouse’s, employment histories, education levels, military experiences. Since he is not amnestied, his war records will be scrutinized. Details about your families, your support structures, your social activities. There can be absolutely nothing that I don’t know about you so that there is no ammunition they could throw at us unawares.”

“Okay,” said Din. “We’ll get you anything you need. Uh, about costs...”

Kuiil seemed to sense Din’s unasked question. “Ms. Urg can provide you with a fee schedule. We can work out payment terms if necessary. Court fees we will try to put on the petitioner, or at the very least, get them split.”

Din nodded. Any price was worth it, but he was already calculating how much he’d have to carve out of their meagre savings and investments.

“So what now?” Din asked. 

“I will contact your CPS worker - Omera, was it? - and inform her that all correspondence regarding the adoption and potential custody hearing should come through my office. I expect the paternity test to be the first request, so we will arrange to get Matias’s DNA for comparison.” 

Din looked down at his hands where he was holding his left wrist and rubbing it with his thumb. He took a breath. “Kuiil, I have to go home now and tell Corin about our meeting. What do I...what can I say to him? How do I reassure him? Can I even...is there any reassurance I can give?”

“This is a multi-step process,” Kuiil said. “There is no sense in fighting battles that haven’t yet been presented to us. Best case scenario, the father wishes to be formally recognized on the birth record, but relinquishes custody and rights to you. Worst case, he fights you for custody. I’m not going to lie. You probably already know that blood relations carry much weight in the court. But this man is an unknown at this time. Maybe he’s a good man with all the best of intentions. Maybe he’s a criminal with nefarious goals. Most likely he falls somewhere in the middle of those two. For you to worry about what you do not know and cannot change is not productive.”

Kuiil stood up, so Din did as well. He felt like he towered over the smaller man.

“I need you to consider that it may come to pass that what is truly the best for Matias may be his father. This is also a possible scenario.”

“I am his father,” Din said firmly.

“Understood,” Kuiil said. “I have spoken.”

<><><><>

When Din left the lawyers the sun was shining, causing sparkles to flicker off the water droplets from the earlier rain on the foliage in front of the ramshackle building. Clutching a manilla envelope of papers and forms provided by Ms Urg, Din walked briskly to his car. Once behind the wheel he pondered going back to his office, but it was on the other side of town and traffic would be heavy this time of day. Cara said she’d cover for him. He should just go home and tell Corin what was going on but Din dreaded the conversation.

“Don’t be such a damn coward,” Din muttered and he started the car.

Corin and Mati were already home but it was earlier than Din would usually get there. Mati squealed when Din opened the door. He squirmed out of Corin’s attempt to wash his face to scoot down the hall, starting on two legs and moving to crawl, and throw himself at Din’s legs. Din squatted down to be more on his level and gave Mati a kiss on his forehead.

“Pah-pah-pah-pah,” Mati said with a sunny smile.

Din picked him up and gave him a squeeze. He walked towards the kitchen where Corin was now wiping apple sauce off the counter.

“You’re early,” Corin said. He rinsed his cloth and turned to Din with a smile that dropped immediately. “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Cara?”

“Cara’s fine,” Din said quickly. “Nothing happened.” 

Slowly Corin stepped closer. “Bad case?” he guessed.

“I, uh, I hired a lawyer for us today,” Din said. “His name is Kuiil Ugnaught. Supposed to be the best in the business.” He put the envelope of papers on the counter. Corin looked down at it and then back at Din. Understanding dawned in his beautiful eyes. “I’m sorry,” Din said. His throat felt like it was closing and he swallowed painfully. “I’m sorry I should have…I should have done more. I should have found him. I should have pursued the case for Fennec, for Mati, for you. I should have found his father.”

Corin swiftly closed the gap between them and took Mati from Din’s arms, putting him down on the floor. The toddler pulled himself up by Din’s pant leg and hugged his calf. Corin wrapped his arms around Din who had started to shake a little. Din’s hands were in fists as he brought them to Corin’s shoulder blades.

“I’m so sorry, _mi corazón_ , so sorry.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Corin said. “It’s going to be okay. It’s not your fault. It’s okay, love, it’s okay.”

This was not how Din planned the conversation. It was clear that he had grossly overestimated his own strength and greatly underestimated Corin’s. He shouldn’t be the one clinging to his partner as if he were drowning, unable to provide any explanation and only able to babble apologies. He should be strong for Corin and present an optimistic case. Instead he could only shake his head, not even meeting Corin’s eyes, when asked about Mati’s father.

“I don’t know anything about him yet, not even his name,” Din said.

“Then we shouldn’t assume the worst,” said Corin, unknowingly reiterating Kuiil’s advice. “Maybe good luck will prevail. Maybe it won’t be that bad and we’ll have worried for nothing.”

 _Yeah_ , thought Din, _and maybe pigs will fly_.


End file.
